Classic Poem

We met upon the pier and parted,
That August evening fair:
I pass the same spot, weary-hearted;
You are not there!

The continent will soon receive you;
Paris will hold you fast
And lure your love, and never leave you
One vision of the past:

And Switzerland with snowy mountains
Will rise upon your sight,
And by the Rhone's green swift-foot fountains
You will forget that night.

We might have done so much together,
If Fate had kinder been!
Paced summer woods in still blue weather,
My grey-eyed stranger-queen!

I English and an English singer,
You from America,
If time had had the heart to linger,
Had had so much to say!

But lo! the chance was missed. I never
Asked even of your name,
And now the eternal time-waves sever,
And you I may not claim.

But take this song, and let my yearning
Across far skies and seas
Fly winged, and reach you slowly turning
Through moonlit orange-trees.

And let me say how through the flying
Swift years that are to be
I still shall bear in mind that dying
Gold sun across the sea.

That sun we saw, and star that lightened
Above the calm blue deep: —
New dawns have flamed, new sunsets brightened, —
But still you haunt my sleep.

You come in dreams, and will come ever
While wind and sun and sea
Are still the same. I know that never
Your image quite will flee.

Just twenty minutes' talk, — then parted!
So life and love are spent:
But I am always heavy-hearted;
And are you quite content?