Poems (Waldenburg)/A Letter
For works with similar titles, see Letter.
A LETTER.FROM THE FRENCH.
My lady; most gently you say
That Time alters all in his range;
But alas, do you know with each day
You have changed with a still greater change?
That Time alters all in his range;
But alas, do you know with each day
You have changed with a still greater change?
Poor Time then you ought not to blame,
For this night is as fair in this year
As the last, and the stars just the same,
The moon's crescent shining as clear!
For this night is as fair in this year
As the last, and the stars just the same,
The moon's crescent shining as clear!
The roses aglow in their bloom
Blush yet from the love-words they heard,
That you whispered to me in the gloom
Of the branches, the night zephyrs stirred.
Blush yet from the love-words they heard,
That you whispered to me in the gloom
Of the branches, the night zephyrs stirred.
I reproach not! I would, 'though to-night,
When you speak of Time's changes that move
O'er the world in their havoc and might,
Consider a woman in love;
When you speak of Time's changes that move
O'er the world in their havoc and might,
Consider a woman in love;
With the seasons she changes,; and takes
A new love, with the year that is new;
And he she thus lightly forsakes,
Is the fool but of Time, so say you!
A new love, with the year that is new;
And he she thus lightly forsakes,
Is the fool but of Time, so say you!
'Tis summer, the gentle winds blow,
'Tis summer in life, too, with you;
Perchance with the winter and snow,
Your lovers and friends may be few.
'Tis summer in life, too, with you;
Perchance with the winter and snow,
Your lovers and friends may be few.
And you may then, standing apart
In your solitude, ask as a boon,
The comfort and love of a heart,
That you lost in a far-away June!
In your solitude, ask as a boon,
The comfort and love of a heart,
That you lost in a far-away June!