Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916.
Two LoversGeorge Eliot (Mary Ann Cross) (1819–1880)
T
They leaned soft cheeks together there,
Mingled the dark and sunny hair,
And heard the wooing thrushes sing.
O budding time!
O love’s blest prime!
The bells made happy carollings,
The air was soft as fanning wings,
White petals on the pathway slept.
O pure-eyed bride!
O tender pride!
Two hands above the head were locked;
These pressed each other while they rocked,
Those watched a life that love had sent.
O solemn hour!
O hidden power!
The red light fell about their knees
On heads that rose by slow degrees
Like buds upon the lily spire.
O patient life!
O tender strife!
The red light shone about their knees;
But all the heads by slow degrees
Had gone, and left that lonely pair.
O voyage fast!
O vanished past!
And made the space between them wide;
They drew their chairs up side by side,
Their pale cheeks joined, and said, ‘Once more!’
O memories!
O past that is!