Poems (Barker)/A Fancy

by Alice J. Green Barker

A Fancy.

The years may come, and the years may go
E'er we meet again—it is better so.
Changes will come—I shall be a bride,
And proudly stand at another's side;
I shall hear a voice that is soft and low;
I shall love to list to that voice I know;
And the past—the past! is it past to me,
Or a type of the time that is yet to be?

We parted calmly, 'twas not in tears,
And I bid farewell to the ghost of years.
I think I smiled as I said "good by;"
I think it was uttered without a sigh.
But many eyes were upon my face;—
Do you think I would show a lingering trace
Of the silent past? Dear heart, farewell,
Oh! the future of either we cannot tell.

The years may come, and the years may go
E'er we meet again—it is better so.
And yet while my lips with smiles are wreathed—
While holy vows are by proud lips breathed—
I think that a phantom will glide between,
By all the others unheard, unseen,
For I know the past is not dead to me;
I think that it never can buried be.

But when the future has smiled on you,
Will memories sweet ever come in view?
Will you ever turn to these by gone years;
To my girlish laughter, my girlish tears;
To the vows half uttered, the thought of pain
That came in the parting words again?
The years may come, and the years may go
E'er we meet again—it is better so.

For changes come, as the years go on,
And bridal vestments I soon shall don.
Your place will be in another spot,
But the happy past cannot be forgot.
And we both shall smile, and we both shall sigh
As the changeful years glide swiftly by.
The years may come, and the years may go,
We may never meet—it is better so.