HAS SHE FORGOTTEN?

Has she forgotten? On this very May

We were to meet here, with the birds and bees,

As on that Sabbath, underneath the trees

We strayed among the tombs, and stripped away

The vines from these old granites, cold and gray —

And yet indeed not grim enough were they

To stay our kisses, smiles and ecstasies,

Or closer voice-lost vows and rhapsodies.

Has she forgotten — that the May has won

Its promise?— that the bird-songs from the tree

Are sprayed above the grasses as the sun

Might jar the dazzling dew down showeringly?

Has she forgotten life — love — everyone —

Has she forgotten me — forgotten me?

Low, low down in the violets I press

My lips and whisper to her. Does she hear,

And yet hold silence, though I call her dear,

Just as of old, save for the tearfulness

Of the clenched eyes, and the soul's vast distress?

Has she forgotten thus the old caress

That made our breath a quickened atmosphere

That failed nigh unto swooning with the sheer

Delight? Mine arms clutch now this earthen heap

Sodden with tears that flow on ceaselessly

As autumn rains the long, long, long nights weep

In memory of days that used to be,—

Has she forgotten these? And in her sleep,

Has she forgotten me — forgotten me?

To-night, against my pillow, with shut eyes,

I mean to weld our faces — through the dense

Incalculable darkness make pretense

That she has risen from her reveries

To mate her dreams with mine in marriages

Of mellow palms, smooth faces, and tense ease

Of every longing nerve of indolence,—

Lift from the grave her quiet lips, and stun

My senses with her kisses — drawl the glee

Of her glad mouth, full blithe and tenderly,

Across mine own, forgetful if is done

The old love's awful dawn-time when said we,

“To-day is ours!”... Ah, Heaven! can it be

She has forgotten me — forgotten me!