The Poetry Corner

Autumn.

By Marietta Holley

Yes! yes! I dare say it is so, And you should be pitied, but how could I know, Watching alone by the moon-lit bay; But that is past for many a day, For the woman that loved, died years ago, Years ago. She had loving eyes, with a wistful look In their depths that day, and I know you took Her face in your hands and read it o'er, As if you should never see it more; You were right, for she died long years ago, Years ago. Had I trusted you - for trust, you know Will keep love's fire forever aglow; Then what would have mattered storm or sun, But the watching - the waiting, all is done; For the woman that loved, died years ago, Years ago. Yes; I think you are constant, true and good, I am tired, and would love you if I could; I am tired, oh, friend, tired out; and yet, Can we make sweet morn of the dim sunset? The woman that loved, died years ago, Years ago. Not a pulse of my heart is stirred by you, No; even your tears cannot move me now; So leave me alone, what is said is said, What boots your prayers, she is dead! is dead! The woman you loved, long years ago, Years ago.