AT DAWN
At dawn, when the jubilant morning broke,
And its glory flooded the mountain side,
I said, "'Tis eleven years to-day,
Eleven years since my darling died!"
And its glory flooded the mountain side,
I said, "'Tis eleven years to-day,
Eleven years since my darling died!"
And then I turned to my household ways,
To my daily tasks, without, within,
As happily busy all the day
As if my darling had never been!—
To my daily tasks, without, within,
As happily busy all the day
As if my darling had never been!—
As if she had never lived, or died!
Yet when they buried her out of my sight
I thought the sun had gone down at noon,
And the day could never again be bright.
Yet when they buried her out of my sight
I thought the sun had gone down at noon,
And the day could never again be bright.
Ah, well! As the swift years come and go,
It will not be long ere I shall lie
Somewhere under a bit of turf,
With my pale hands folded quietly.
It will not be long ere I shall lie
Somewhere under a bit of turf,
With my pale hands folded quietly.
And then someone who has loved me well—
Perhaps the one who has loved me best—
Will say of meas I said of her,
"She has been just so many years at rest"—
Perhaps the one who has loved me best—
Will say of meas I said of her,
"She has been just so many years at rest"—
Then turn to the living loves again,
To the busy life, without, within,
And the day will go on from dawn to dusk,
Even as if I had never been!
To the busy life, without, within,
And the day will go on from dawn to dusk,
Even as if I had never been!
