Poems (Chitwood)/To X. X. X.
TO X. X. X.
Ah, friend, whose heart was once mine own, My soul is full of thee to-night,While sitting wrapped in thought, alone, Beneath Orion's silvery light.
It hath been long since look or word Of thine hath made my heart-strings thrill,But oh, this hour the waves are stirred I thought forever still.
I've gone to one sweet Summer day, Far backward in the arms of years,When thou and I were far away From sorrow's blight and tears.
Thy golden locks were on my breast, I heard the throbbings of thy heart,And, as my lips thy forehead pressed, I thought we could not part.
Our souls had glided o'er a se: Bright as Utopia's isle of yore;The present was our Eden, we Dreamed never of the shore.
We knew in calmer, soberer hours, Our lives could never mingle here;But love wove fragrant wreaths of flowers, Alas, to deck his bier.
Oh, had our bark but then gone down— Then when the skies were bright above,We each had worn a gem-like crown, Illuminate with love.
But time's rough waves wore high and higher, The faint breeze bore us to the shore,The sunset was our funeral pyre; We met, alas, no more.