Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889
A Little While I Fain Would Linger Yet
By Paul Hamilton Hayne (18301886)A
I fain would pause along the downward way,
Musing an hour in this sad sunset-ray,
While, Sweet! our eyes with tender tears are wet:
A little hour I fain would linger yet.
All for love’s sake, for love that cannot tire;
Though fervid youth be dead, with youth’s desire,
And hope has faded to a vague regret,
A little while I fain would linger yet.
Behold! who knows what strange, mysterious bars
’Twixt souls that love, may rise in other stars?
Nor can love deem the face of death is fair;
A little while I still would linger here.
Hand locked in hand, and loyal heart to heart,
(O pitying Christ! those woeful words, “We part!”)
So ere the darkness fall, the light be past,
A little while I fain would hold thee fast.
Behind, our broken years; before, the deep
Weird wonder of the last unfathomed sleep;
A little while I still would clasp thee, Sweet;
A little while, when night and twilight meet.
Behold! who knows what soul-dividing bars
Earth’s faithful loves may part in other stars?
Nor can love deem the face of death is fair:
A little while I still would linger here.