A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields/Dost Thou Remember, Mary? (Philippe Dumanoir)
DOST THOU REMEMBER, MARY?
Dost thou remember, Mary,
Our childhood on the green?
Our gay sports in the meadows?
I then was but fifteen.
The dance on grass, like velvet,
It cheered our leisure hours;
That time hath passed for ever,
The time of joy and flowers.
Dost thou remember, dearest,
The evening in the glen?
When first thou saidst, 'I love thee!'
I was but twenty then.
Both happy, both in blushes,
Ah day! all days above;
That time hath passed for ever,
The thrilling time of love.
Dost thou remember, Mary,
The war-time and thy fear,
When I joined my country's banners?
'Twas in my thirtieth year.
The echoes of the trumpet
Made soldiers of us all;
That time I now regret too,
And would e'en that recall.
Dost thou remember, loveliest,
The ties that bound thee fast,
The holiest ties—a mother's,
When my thirtieth year had past?
The tumult of that revel
Still rings within my heart;
A happy time—Life's autumn,
Ah! why should it depart?
Whilst thus I sigh, my Mary,
Thine eyes are bending down;
Afraid they seem to tell me
That our best of days have flown.
My lips in vain lament them,
But though the zest be o'er,
To call them back is pleasure,
Those days that are no more.