SOUVENIR DE JEUNESSE
When Sibyl kept her tryst with me, the harvest moon was rounded,
In evening hush through pathways lush with fern we reached the glade;
The rippling river soft and low with fairy plashes sounded,
The silver poplar rustled as we sat within its shade.
"And why," she whispered, "evermore should lovers meet to sunder?
Where stars arise in other skies let other lips than mine
Their sorrows lisp, and other hearts at love's delaying wonder—
O stay!"—and soon her tearful eyes were each a pearly shrine.
I soothed her fears and stayed her tears, her hands in mine enfolding,
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