| |
| I HAD sworn to be a bachelor, she had sworn to be a maid, | |
| For we quite agreed in doubting whether matrimony paid; | |
| Besides, we had our higher loves,—fair science ruled my heart, | |
| And she said her young affections were all wound up in art. | |
| |
| So we laughed at those wise men who say that friendship cannot live | 5 |
| ’Twixt man and woman, unless each has something more to give: | |
| We would be friends, and friends as true as e’er were man and man; | |
| I ’d be a second David, and she Miss Jonathan. | |
| |
| We scorned all sentimental trash,—vows, kisses, tears, and sighs; | |
| High friendship, such as ours, might well such childish arts despise; | 10 |
| We liked each other, that was all, quite all there was to say, | |
| So we just shook hands upon it, in a business sort of way. | |
| |
| We shared our secrets and our joys, together hoped and feared, | |
| With common purpose sought the goal that young Ambition reared; | |
| We dreamed together of the days, the dream-bright days to come, | 15 |
| We were strictly confidential, and we called each other “chum.” | |
| |
| And many a day we wandered together o’er the hills, | |
| I seeking bugs and butterflies, and she, the ruined mills | |
| And rustic bridges, and the like, that picture-makers prize | |
| To run in with their waterfalls, and groves, and summer skies. | 20 |
| |
| And many a quiet evening, in hours of silent ease, | |
| We floated down the river, or strolled beneath the trees, | |
| And talked, in long gradation from the poets to the weather, | |
| While the western skies and my cigar burned slowly out together. | |
| |
| Yet through it all no whispered word, no tell-tale glance or sigh, | 25 |
| Told aught of warmer sentiment than friendly sympathy. | |
| We talked of love as coolly as we talked of nebulæ, | |
| And thought no more of being one than we did of being three. * * * * * | |
| “Well, good-bye, chum!” I took her hand, for the time had come to go. | |
| My going meant our parting, when to meet, we did not know. | 30 |
| I had lingered long, and said farewell with a very heavy heart; | |
| For although we were but friends, ’t is hard for honest friends to part. | |
| |
| “Good-bye, old fellow! don’t forget your friends beyond the sea, | |
| And some day, when you ’ve lots of time, drop a line or two to me.” | |
| The words came lightly, gayly, but a great sob, just behind, | 35 |
| Welled upward with a story of quite a different kind. | |
| |
| And then she raised her eyes to mine,—great liquid eyes of blue, | |
| Filled to the brim, and running o’er, like violet cups of dew; | |
| One long, long glance, and then I did, what I never did before— | |
| Perhaps the tears meant friendship, but I ’m sure the kiss meant more. | 40 |
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