Somebody said, in the crowd, last eve,
    That you were married, or soon to be.
I have not thought of you, I believe,
    Since last we parted. Let me see:
Five long Summers have passed since then---
    Each has been pleasant in its own way---
And you are but one of a dozen men
    Who have played the suitor a Summer day.

But, nevertheless, when I heard your name,
    Coupled with some one's, not my own,
There burned in my bosom a sudden flame,
    That carried me back to the day that is flown.
I was sitting again by the laughing brook,
    With you at my feet and the sky above,
And my heart was fluttering under your look---
    The unmistakable look of Love.

Again your breath, like a South wind, fanned
    My cheek, where the blushes came and went;
And the tender clasp of your strong, warm hand
    Sudden thrills through my pulses sent.
Again you were mine by Love's own right---
    Mine for ever by Love's decree:
So for a moment it seemed last night,
    When somebody mentioned your name to me.

Just for the moment I thought you mine---
    Loving me, wooing me, as of old.
The tale remembered seemed half divine---
    Though I held it lightly enough when told.
The past seemed fairer than when it was near,
    As "Blessings brighten when taking flight";
And just for the moment I held you dear---
    When somebody mentioned your name last night.

Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917.

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