| |
| ACROSS the pathway, myrtle-fringed, | |
| Under the maple, it was hinged— | |
| The little wooden gate; | |
| ’T was there within the quiet gloam, | |
| When I had strolled with Nelly home, | 5 |
| I used to pause and wait | |
| |
| Before I said to her good-night, | |
| Yet loath to leave the winsome sprite | |
| Within the garden’s pale; | |
| And there, the gate between us two, | 10 |
| We ’d linger as all lovers do, | |
| And lean upon the rail. | |
| |
| And face to face, eyes close to eyes, | |
| Hands meeting hands in feigned surprise, | |
| After a stealthy quest,— | 15 |
| So close I ’d bend, ere she ’d retreat, | |
| That I ’d grow drunken from the sweet | |
| Tuberose upon her breast. | |
| |
| We ’d talk—in fitful style, I ween— | |
| With many a meaning glance between | 20 |
| The tender words and low; | |
| We ’d whisper some dear, sweet conceit, | |
| Some idle gossip we ’d repeat, | |
| And then I ’d move to go. | |
| |
| “Good-night,” I ’d say; “good-night—good-bye!” | 25 |
| “Good-night”—from her with half a sigh— | |
| “Good-night!” “Good-night!” And then— | |
| And then I do not go, but stand, | |
| Again lean on the railing, and— | |
| Begin it all again. | 30 |
| |
| Ah! that was many a day ago— | |
| That pleasant summer-time—although | |
| The gate is standing yet; | |
| A little cranky, it may be, | |
| A little weather-worn—like me— | 35 |
| Who never can forget | |
| |
| The happy— “End”? My cynic friend, | |
| Pray save your sneers—there was no “end.” | |
| Watch yonder chubby thing! | |
| That is our youngest, hers and mine; | 40 |
| See how he climbs, his legs to twine | |
| About the gate and swing. | |
| |
