When Memory Wakes
At dawn I woke, and in the misty haze
That comes between the waking and the dream
I saw her face, as in the olden days,
And o'er her brow the mellow light that plays
Where Love's enthroned. And lo! the tender gleam
Of morning star had lost its wonted light,
For Fate had touched a long-healed wound at night
And waked me, sighing for forgotten days.
Perhaps
Perhaps in some far-distant Spring-time,
When fields are green and woods are gay,
When all the air is rich in perfume,
I may cross your way.
Perhaps in some sweet slumberous June-time
Bright and fair with sunny weather,
When the whippoor-will is wooing,
Our hearts may throb together.
Perhaps some russet, crimson Autumn,
Rich with goldenrods and gay,
Sere and brown in golden beauty,
May see our wedding day.
