Poems (Argent)/Last Days
For works with similar titles, see Last Days.
LAST DAYS.
OH! sorrowful and sweetAre these last days of summer that do bringA dim foreboding on their passing wing,For never more this year will flood the hillsIn eddying waves of light—nor touch the rillsWith dazzling sunbeam or with lightning glow,And tender song of birds whose notes still flow, Most sorrowful and sweet.
Oh! sorrowful and sweetThis murmur from a sea whose rock-bound cavesLook down with horror on the silent graves,That keep perpetual secret of the soulsThat rest below, where ocean grandly rolls. The dashing foam, the spray-encircled mainWhisper unceasingly their sad refrain, Oh! sorrowful, yet sweet.
Oh! sorrowful and sweetAre these last days, these hours of thine and mineAll gathered up and laid at friendship's shrine,The noon of joy once foaming as a cupOf sparkling wine, now drank for ever up.The farewell eve with scarce a star betweenTo point the way where happiness hath been, Most sorrowful yet sweet.
Oh! sorrowful and sweet,More transient than the clouds that onward passAnd throw their lengthening shadows on the grass,Are all frail joys of earth, the passion-flowersThat bind these bleeding brows and hearts of ours.Yet tenderly fair memory, with soft rays,Toucheth to life again these dear last days, So sorrowful yet sweet!