She was as lovely as a flower,
1
And, like a flower, she passed away,
And yet, as in that morning hour
I saw her first, I still to-day
Her unforgotten face behold,
Tender as dew, and bright as gold.
Shed from her gown the old perfume,
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She steals like blossom to my side,
Sweetens my thoughts, and fills the room,
And leaves me glad and sanctified;
She still about me comes and goes,
Soft as the shadow of a rose.
I know she only seemed to die,
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'Tis all the happier for me
That no one sees her face but I—
So would we have it, I and she—
That no one sees us meet and part,
And hold each other heart to heart.
What trysts are ours, what moments rare,
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What happy laughter side by side,
While no one dreams that she is there,
Because they think that she has died—
They'd call it dreams, were I to tell,
And so we keep our secret well.
And now it is this many a year
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Since they have missed her from her place,
Healed is the wound, and dried the tear
That fell once for her vanished face;
Once so beloved and once so fair.
Once!—ah! beloved, if they could know!
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If they as I could see you still,
And watch your beauty lovelier grow,
And feast their eyes and drink their fill
Of all that breath and bloom of you—
Ah! I might lose you, if they knew.
But now no eyes but mine can see,
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No hands can touch, no ears can hear,
And none can come 'twixt you and me,
No other lover hold you dear;
And Time that other beauty mars
Can reach you not among the stars.