Page:A Treasury of South African Poetry.djvu/128

She faded, but I saw it not—
How could I, when the love-plumed wings
That sped the swift hours dimmed my eyes,
And closed my ears to passing things?

I knew her love was fadeless—knew
That mine could die not, nor could deem
That love was life's alone, and life
A dream, and love an inner dream.

She faded, and it seemed her life
Passed to the blossom-burthened sprays;
The orchid seemed instinct with sense,
The lily tried to breathe and gaze.

She died when summer's failing light
Slid into autumn's golden gloom,
And when my hopes like faded leaves
Sank dead, they laid her in the tomb.

And now, when springtime wakes the world,
I watch each slowly opening flower
That, from the silence where she dwells,
Comes with fresh tidings to her bower.

W. C. Scully.