Second Song

How much I loved that way you had

Of smiling most, when very sad,

A smile which carried tender hints

Of delicate tints

And warbling birds,

Of sun and spring,

And yet, more than all other thing,

Of Weariness beyond all Words!

None other ever smiled that way,

None that I know,—

The essence of all Gaiety lay,

Of all mad mirth that men may know,

In that sad smile, serene and slow,

That on your lips was wont to play.

It needed many delicate lines

And subtle curves and roseate tints

To make that weary radiant smile;

It flickered, as beneath the vines

The sunshine through green shadow glints

On the pale path that lies below,

Flickered and flashed, and died away,

But the strange thoughts it woke meanwhile

Were wont to stay.

Thoughts of Strange Things you used to know

In dim, dead lives, lived long ago,

Some madly mirthful Merriment

Whose lingering light is yet unspent,—

Some unimaginable Woe,—

Your strange, sad smile forgets these not,

Though you, yourself, long since, forgot!