Which only appears

In a season of rest.

Once more we wander,

Her fair hand in mine;

Once more her promise,

"I'll ever be thine";

Once more the parting,

The shroud, and the pall,

The sods' hollow thump

As they coffinward fall.

The reverie ends—

All the fancies have flown;

And my sad, lonely heart,

Now seems doubly alone;

As the Ivy, whose tendrils

Reach longingly out,

Yet finds not an oak

To entwine them about.

 

Love's Plea. 

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