34
POEMS.
The slow wise smile, that, round about
His dusty forehead drily curled,
Seemed half-within, and half-without,
And full of dealings with the world?
His dusty forehead drily curled,
Seemed half-within, and half-without,
And full of dealings with the world?
III.
In yonder chair I see him sit—
Three fingers round the old silver cup:
I see his gray eyes twinkle yet
At his own jest—gray eyes lit up
With summer lightnings of a soul
So full of summer warmth, so glad,
So healthy, sound and clear and whole,
His memory scarce makes me sad.
In yonder chair I see him sit—
Three fingers round the old silver cup:
I see his gray eyes twinkle yet
At his own jest—gray eyes lit up
With summer lightnings of a soul
So full of summer warmth, so glad,
So healthy, sound and clear and whole,
His memory scarce makes me sad.
IV.
Yet fill my glass,—give me one kiss;
My darling Alice, we must die.
There's somewhat in this world amiss,
Shall be unriddled by and by.
Yet fill my glass,—give me one kiss;
My darling Alice, we must die.
There's somewhat in this world amiss,
Shall be unriddled by and by.
