We met one fresh June-morn, Chlodine,
Where two roads came together;
I'd travelled far through storm and rain,
And you, through pleasant weather.
I loved you for the light, Chlodine,
Of summer all around you,—
I loved you for the sweet June-flowers,
Whose dewy garlands bound you!
You loved me not, Chlodine, because
The storms had beat upon me;
Because there was no breath of flowers,
No summer sunshine on me;—
You could not see, Chlodine, that deep
Within my soul were growing
Fresh flowers that evermore would keep
The fragrance of their blowing.
And so we parted—you and I—
Your ways all fresh and flowering;
Mine, rocky steeps up mountains high,
'Neath skies with tempests lowering;
And yet the sunshine spoilt your flowers,—
Mine, bitter grief-drops nourished,
And while yours withered day by day,
Mine bloomed the more, and flourished
And now we're met again, Chlodine,
You love me for my flowers,
Their perfume scenting all the air.
Like breath of Eden-bowers;—
I love you not, Chlodine, alas!
You're changed since those old mornings,
Your regal summer-robes are lost,
With all their rare adornings!
We stand together side by side,
And yet, at farthest, never,
Before stretched out so far and wide
The distance that did sever
Us, as to-day it does, Chlodine,
Though hand touch hand in greeting,
And never again shall we know, Chlodine,
Another June-day meeting.