POEMS.
19
Close in the girdle of my arms entwined,
Rest on my lips the softness of thy cheek.
If Fate were sightless, must we too be blind,
And let our happiness slip by us? Speak!
Over the restless sea and quiet land
Silence and darkness creep up, hand in hand.
Answer again! I dare not understand.
Rest on my lips the softness of thy cheek.
If Fate were sightless, must we too be blind,
And let our happiness slip by us? Speak!
Over the restless sea and quiet land
Silence and darkness creep up, hand in hand.
Answer again! I dare not understand.
C. D.
