THE LOVERS' LAST MEETING.
19
Her shut and silent heart. She did not look
Upon the many flowers, she did not hear
The music of the stream—the fairy tints
Of sunset, the green surging of the woods,
The mildly-wooing zephyrs, and the tones,
The thousand deep tones of the holy hour,
All were unheeded then. Her eyes, her ears,
Her thoughts, her soul, her life, were but for him.
She leaned upon him with that touching trust
And holy confidence a saint would feel
In leaning upon heaven. And she to him
Was all that mortal creature e'er could be
To a proud child of earth. With lip to lip,
And heart quick-throbbing to its throbbing mate,
They stood in love's bewildering embrace,
Silently clasping in their straining arms
All that they knew of heaven on earth. And then
They heeded not the passing of the hours,
They saw not sunset's glorious roses fade
Within the west's sky-garden, they but felt
They loved and were supremely blest.
Upon the many flowers, she did not hear
The music of the stream—the fairy tints
Of sunset, the green surging of the woods,
The mildly-wooing zephyrs, and the tones,
The thousand deep tones of the holy hour,
All were unheeded then. Her eyes, her ears,
Her thoughts, her soul, her life, were but for him.
She leaned upon him with that touching trust
And holy confidence a saint would feel
In leaning upon heaven. And she to him
Was all that mortal creature e'er could be
To a proud child of earth. With lip to lip,
And heart quick-throbbing to its throbbing mate,
They stood in love's bewildering embrace,
Silently clasping in their straining arms
All that they knew of heaven on earth. And then
They heeded not the passing of the hours,
They saw not sunset's glorious roses fade
Within the west's sky-garden, they but felt
They loved and were supremely blest.
