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A TRYST THAT FAILED.
Ce pauvre temps passé!
Alfred de Musset.
It was a time of wind and sun,
Morning day, and the Winter done,
Morning life, and the Spring begun.
It was a place so dreamy and brown,
Pensive with sheep-bells under the down,
Scent-dreamy, wild, with a windy crown.
You were coming, out of the Spring,
Out of the sun-dream wandering,
Out of the wind-joy hastening.
I did not see you, sweet; a flight
Of sea-birds only, pearly and white,
With a sudden shadow fled into the light.
