Poems (Odom)/Sic Transit

For works with similar titles, see Sic Transit.

"SIC TRANSIT."

'T is almost twenty years, John,
Since you stood by my side,
And held my trembling hand in yours,
Your newly-plighted bride.
You have forgotten it, perhaps,—
I never can forget;
Each word you whispered to me then
Thrills through my spirit yet.

Your step upon the rustic porch,
That evening when you came;
The sudden red that to my cheeks
Flashed upward like a flame;
The glad light beaming in your eye
When first it met my own;
The fervent clasp you gave my hand;
Your low and tender tone.—

It all comes back to me to-night,
With deep, heart-thrilling power,
Until I seem to live again
That soul-enchanting hour.
The stars are shining just the same,
The sky is still as blue;
Ah! John, the change is not in them;
It rests on me and you.

It matters not to either now
What could or might have been,
Since all these years, like drifting snow,
Lie pale and cold between.
I only know that once we loved,
And that we loved in vain—
That deep, sweet pulse of happiness
Will never throb again.

That evening—eighteen years ago—
Do you remember still?
Or have you quite forgotten, John,
The old house on the hill;
The sofa by the folding-door,
The great arm-chair so near,
Where on that fragrant summer night,
You said I was so dear?

I sat and listened silently,
As though I never heard,
While you were pleading earnestly
For just one little word.
I felt the blood my forehead tinge,
And mantle in my cheek;
You must have seen I loved you, John,
Although I could not speak.

You pulled to pieces as you talked
A rose that I had worn,
And the lace upon my handkerchief
I know was sadly torn.
You took my hand in yours, John,
And pressed it with a sigh;
I raised my head an instant then,
And met your deep blue eye.

That glance—what may one look reveal,
Of passion or regret—
I see it still, and know that you
Can never quite forget.
Ah, well, that rosy-tinted hour
Passed o'er us like a dream;
Our lives are never half so bright,
As 1n our youth they seem.

A few bright, golden months, and then
The parting hour came;
Our daily paths are far apart,
Yet life is just the same.
The stars shine just as clear to-night,
The sky is still as blue,
As when in youth the hours sped
So happily with you.

My children cling about me now,
Yours climb upon your knee;
The harp of life has changed its tone,
Not hushed its minstrelsy.
I smile when thinking how you praised
My midnight eyes and hair—
Your wife has eyes of clearest blue,
And tresses bright and fair.

Our youth, with all its memories,
Is passing fast away;
Yet some old dreams will linger, John,
About our hearts to-day.
In every life some memory
Retains its magic powers,
That half-awakened thing around
Our resurrected hours.