REGRET.
Softly Death touched her, and she passed away
Out of this glad, bright world she made more fair,
Sweet as the apple-blossoms, when in May
The orchards flush, of summer grown aware.
Out of this glad, bright world she made more fair,
Sweet as the apple-blossoms, when in May
The orchards flush, of summer grown aware.
All that fresh, delicate beauty gone from sight,
That gentle, gracious presence felt no more!
How must the house be emptied of delight,
What shadows on the threshold she passed o'er!
That gentle, gracious presence felt no more!
How must the house be emptied of delight,
What shadows on the threshold she passed o'er!
She loved me. Surely I was grateful, yet
I could not give her back all she gave me.
Ever I think of it with vague regret,
Musing upon a summer by the sea:
I could not give her back all she gave me.
Ever I think of it with vague regret,
Musing upon a summer by the sea:
Remembering troops of merry girls who pressed
About me—clinging arms and tender eyes,
And love, like scent of roses. With the rest
She came, to fill my heart with new surprise.
About me—clinging arms and tender eyes,
And love, like scent of roses. With the rest
She came, to fill my heart with new surprise.
