Madame
Madame!—no English word gives quite the shade of meaning,—
What will you do when I on heaven's white sill am leaning
Or singing high songs there?
Will you bestow a thought on the old vanished lover
As through the green-blue grass where lurks the scented clover
You wander, breathing the June evening air?
Madame! will you think much,—when at the play your laughter
Rings out,—of one who heard and marvelled ever after
With tenderest sweet surprise?
As your soft blue-black hair falls round your shapely shoulder
Will you remember one to whom all life grew colder
When that dark hair-knot vanished from his eyes?
What will you do when I on heaven's white sill am leaning
Or singing high songs there?
Will you bestow a thought on the old vanished lover
As through the green-blue grass where lurks the scented clover
You wander, breathing the June evening air?
Madame! will you think much,—when at the play your laughter
Rings out,—of one who heard and marvelled ever after
With tenderest sweet surprise?
As your soft blue-black hair falls round your shapely shoulder
Will you remember one to whom all life grew colder
When that dark hair-knot vanished from his eyes?
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