Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.
By RufusDawes326 Love Unchangeable
Y
His signet on my brow,
And dims my sunken eye, forgets
The heart he could not bow,
Where love, that cannot perish, grows
For one, alas! that little knows
How love may sometimes last,
Like sunshine wasting in the skies,
When clouds are overcast.
Within its robe of light,
Can never touch a leaf that blows,
Though seeming to the sight;
And yet it still will linger there,
Like hopeless love without despair,—
A snow-drop in the sun:
A moment finely exquisite,
Alas! but only one.
Think momently of me;
Nor would I tear the cords apart,
That bind me so to thee;
No! while my thoughts seem pure and mild,
Like dew upon the roses wild,
I would not have thee know
The stream, that seems to thee so still,
Has such a tide below.
I see thee and forget,—
Enough, that when the morning beams
I feel my eyelids wet!
Yet, could I hope, when Time lets fall
The darkness for creation’s pall,
To meet thee,—and to love,—
I would not shrink from aught below,
Nor ask for more above.