She leaned out into the soft June weather,
With her long loose tresses the night breeze played;
Her eyes were as blue as the bells on the heather:
Oh, what is so fair as a fair young maid!
She folded her hands, like the leaves of a lily,
"My life," she said, "is a night in June,
Fair and quiet, and calm and stilly;
Bring me a change, oh changeful moon!
"Who would drift on a lake forever?
Young hearts weary--it is not strange,
And sigh for the beautiful bounding river;
New moon, true moon, bring me a change!"
The rose that rivaled her maiden blushes
Dropped from her breast, at a stranger's feet;
Only a glance; but the hot blood rushes
To mantle a fair face, shy and sweet.
To and fro, while the moon is waning,
They walk, and the stars shine on above;
And one is in earnest, and one is feigning--
Oh, what is so sweet, as a sweet young love?
A young life crushed, and a young heart broken,
A bleak wind blows through the lovely bower,
And all that remains of the love vows spoken--
Is the trampled leaf of a faded flower.
The night is dark, for the moon is failing--
And what is so pale, as a pale old moon!
Cold is the wind through the tree tops wailing--
Woe that the change should come so soon.
Poems of reflection. By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
Chicago, M.A. Donohue & company [c1905].
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