Poems (Hardy)/Elian gray
Appearance
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
ELIAN GRAY
I
YEARS of lone length, a joyless face,—
Your picture, Elian Gray:
But where you sit 'mid faded leaves
Sat Clare one far-off May.
Your picture, Elian Gray:
But where you sit 'mid faded leaves
Sat Clare one far-off May.
II
The flowers down showering on us both
Made fair the checkered shade;
She hoarded them in her two hands
And sighed that they should fade.
Made fair the checkered shade;
She hoarded them in her two hands
And sighed that they should fade.
III
Yet sighing smiled with lips content
In beauty so complete,
My heart, re-echoing what she felt,
Lay mutely at her feet.
In beauty so complete,
My heart, re-echoing what she felt,
Lay mutely at her feet.
IV
She saw not that I loved her,—no;
Her soul was slumbering yet;
A child of nature, simple, true,—
Would she my face forget?
Her soul was slumbering yet;
A child of nature, simple, true,—
Would she my face forget?
V
We parted, and her troubled eyes,
Half-questioning, looked in mine,
With something in her lingering glance
I could not then divine.
Half-questioning, looked in mine,
With something in her lingering glance
I could not then divine.
VI
They say she grew to fair estate
Of noble womanhood:
But strangely grave; and unaware
That love was life's best good.
Of noble womanhood:
But strangely grave; and unaware
That love was life's best good.
VII
They say she looked as one who waits
A step that would not come.
When other lips spoke praise of me
She smiled, but hers were dumb.
A step that would not come.
When other lips spoke praise of me
She smiled, but hers were dumb.
VIII
Ah, wretched, that my stupid heart
And inadvertent eye
Relinquished all that love could give
Through doubt's inconstancy!
And inadvertent eye
Relinquished all that love could give
Through doubt's inconstancy!
IX
Doubt, not of her, but doubt of God,
And feeble faith that He
Designed for men much earthly joy,
And, least of all, for me.
And feeble faith that He
Designed for men much earthly joy,
And, least of all, for me.
X
This is her grave; the ripe fruit falls
Where blossoms fell before;
This is her grave; here all paths end
For me, forevermore.
Where blossoms fell before;
This is her grave; here all paths end
For me, forevermore.