" A sorrow's crown of sorrow is remembering happier things "

In the dead days of long ago
We walked the sun-kissed hill, aye, hand in hand
And knew the perfect love which understands
And asks no words to round its cycle out.
Beside us as we walked the violets bloomed,
Up-springing from the sward in loveliness,
Pressed 'neath our tread or smiling in our hands,
When low we stooped to break their fragile stems.

In the dead days of long ago
The hand of man had scarce dared yet defile.
The hill that raised its crest unto the sun,
And gave sweet thanks because it bloomed afair,
And raised green trees like altar candles high,
Or swung its censers of the deep heart flow'r,
And held two souls that walked in perfect love,
Unmarveling such love could last on earth.

And now it is to-day,
We walk with sun-kissed hill, our forms apart,
And ever with us walks another form,
Close pressing with firm tread betwixt us twain.
Her face is fairer than the violets' bloom,
And love shines full upon her countenance;
Into your hand her own steals oft anon,
And I, heart-broken, stray apart, alone.

And still to-day,
The sun-kissed hill, its crest aloft, up-raised
Unto the darkling sky where sorrow broods;
White stones and tow'rs and structures tall are piled,
Where violets bloomed and wild things danced away.

She walks with thee — and yet she too, shall know
The sorrow's crown of bitterness to come,
The jealous guarding of her happy days,
The hoarding of the mem'ry of an hour.