29.12.2010, 18:39
THE PARTING-GATE
In that old beech-walk, now bestrewn with mast,
And roaring loud—they linger'd long and late ;
Harsh was the clang of the last homeward gate
That latch'd itself behind them, as they pass'd —
Then kiss'd and parted. Soon her funeral knell
Toll'd from a foreign clime ; he did not talk
Nor weep, but shudder'd at that stern farewell ;
'Twas the last gate in all their lovers'-walk
Without the kiss beyond it I Was it good
To leave him thus, alone with his sad mood,
In that dear footpath, haunted by her smile ?
Where they had laugh'd and loiter'd, sat and stood ?
Alone in life ! alone in Moreham wood !
Through all that sweet, forsaken, forest-mile !
In that old beech-walk, now bestrewn with mast,
And roaring loud—they linger'd long and late ;
Harsh was the clang of the last homeward gate
That latch'd itself behind them, as they pass'd —
Then kiss'd and parted. Soon her funeral knell
Toll'd from a foreign clime ; he did not talk
Nor weep, but shudder'd at that stern farewell ;
'Twas the last gate in all their lovers'-walk
Without the kiss beyond it I Was it good
To leave him thus, alone with his sad mood,
In that dear footpath, haunted by her smile ?
Where they had laugh'd and loiter'd, sat and stood ?
Alone in life ! alone in Moreham wood !
Through all that sweet, forsaken, forest-mile !