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A Song
By Robert Richardson
1/7/1850-10/4/1901Above us only
The Southern stars,
And the moon o'er brimming
Her golden bars.
And a song sweet and clear
As the bell-bird's plaint,
Hums low in my ear
Like a dream-echo faint.
The kind old song --
How did it go?
With its ripple and flow,
That you used to sing, dear,
Long ago.
Hand fast in hand,
I, love, and thou;
Hand locked in hand,
And on my brow
Your perfumed lips
Breathing love and life --
The love of the maiden,
The trust of the wife.
And I'm listening still
To the ripple and flow --
How did it go? --
Of the little French song
Of that long ago.
Can you recall it
Across the years?
You used to sing it
With laughter and tears.
If you sang it now, dear,
That kind old refrain,
It would bring back the fragrance
Of the dead years again.
Le printemps pour l'amour --
How did it go?
Only we know;
Sing it, sweetheart, to-night,
As you did long ago.
DayPoems Poem No. 889
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The DayPoems web site, www.daypoems.net, is copyright 2001-2005 by Timothy K. Bovee. All rights reserved.
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