102
LOOKING INTO THE WELL.
Again in the trees the robins sung;
The gold had deepened upon her hair:
The locusts over the pathway hung
To look at her face so still and fair.
I said no word: I sat by her side
Contented to hold her hand in mine
Dreaming of love and a fair young bride,—
Visions that truth would have made divine.
The robin's song took a clearer tone,
The sky was a tenderer, deeper blue:
Her face in the limpid waters shone,—
I thought her eyes were holy and true.
The gold had deepened upon her hair:
The locusts over the pathway hung
To look at her face so still and fair.
I said no word: I sat by her side
Contented to hold her hand in mine
Dreaming of love and a fair young bride,—
Visions that truth would have made divine.
The robin's song took a clearer tone,
The sky was a tenderer, deeper blue:
Her face in the limpid waters shone,—
I thought her eyes were holy and true.
I walked alone to the shaded well
When locusts bloomed in the next year's June,—
The shadows along my pathway fell,
The wild birds sang a sorrowful 'tune.
When locusts bloomed in the next year's June,—
The shadows along my pathway fell,
The wild birds sang a sorrowful 'tune.
