Poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery

Realization

I smiled with skeptic mocking where they told me you were dead,
You of the airy laughter and lightly twinkling feet;
”They tell a dream that haunted a chill gray dawn,” I said,
”Death could not touch or claim a thing so vivid and so sweet!” 

I looked upon you coffined amid your virgin flowers,
But even that white silence could bring me no belief:
”She lies in maiden sleep,” I said. ”and in the youngling hours
Her sealed dark eyes will open to scorn our foolish grief.” 

But when I went at moonrise to our ancient trysting place. . . . . 
And, oh, the wind was keening in the fir-boughs overhead! . . . . 
And you came never to me with your little gypsy face,
Your lips and hands of welcome, I knew that you were dead!

1. In the Days of the Golden Rod
2. Companioned
3. In an Old Town Garden
4. The Seeker
5. Memory Pictures

Print

1124 Views

Last Poems

To Russian version