For Alice, In Autumn.


Alice sits weeping in the garden chair.
Yet Love had poured for us a rosy chalice
That spills, alas! in ruin … ’tis by malice
Of some sly deity who harbours there!

And as I stand, “Ah, please to go!” the fair
Sentinel lily hears, who bends her calice
Over the garden chair and weeping Alice.
Yet going, “Do not—leave—me!” thrills the air.

Wondering, I watch a sad cloud hide the sun:
A cloud—a mood—hint for a lover’s part!
I’ll clasp the soft hand by the lily sleeping.…

It clings! A sudden ray gleams in the dun,
And leaps down gulfs of space to light my heart
Where, in the garden chair, Alice smiles weeping.

Rate this post
Previous articleIn Memoriam Tranquillissimam,
Next articleFor A London Commercial.


Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here