LOVE THE MONOPOLIST

The train draws forth from the station-yard,

And with it carries me.

I rise, and stretch out, and regard

The platform left, and see

An airy slim blue form there standing,

And know that it is she.

While with strained vision I watch on,

The figure turns round quite

To greet friends gaily; then is gone...

The import may be slight,

But why remained she not hard gazing

Till I was out of sight?

“O do not chat with others there,”

I brood. “They are not I.

O strain your thoughts as if they were

Gold bands between us; eye

All neighbour scenes as so much blankness

Till I again am by!

“A troubled soughing in the breeze

And the sky overhead

Let yourself feel; and shadeful trees,

Ripe corn, and apples red,

Read as things barren and distasteful

While we are separated!

“When I come back uncloak your gloom,

And let in lovely day;

Then the long dark as of the tomb

Can well be thrust away

With sweet things I shall have to practise,

And you will have to say!”