Dear Sallie May, how often back,
I turn to look at thee!
Bright sunbeam on life’s morning track,
Love’s polar star to me.
The blooming meadow tinged with gold
Comes to thy cottage door.
As when thy little hand I’d hold,
Repeating farewells o’er.
Do you remember, Sallie May,
The evening that we stood,
Just where the fragrant meadow lay,
Along the darken’d wood?
The chilly winds came stealing down,
Rich Summer’s reign was broken,
And Autumn crown’d with gold and brown,
The forests old and oaken.
Your head was pillow’d on my breast
In trusting faith sublime,
I heard your heart in wild unrest,
Give answer back to mine.
What though your lips no answer made,
Beneath the twilight’s hush,
Your hand in mine was softly laid
With love’s consenting blush.
Your bosom pressed mine modestly
With love’s confiding art,
That I might feel, as well as see,
The throbbing of your heart.
And thus until the glowing west
Proclaim’d the day had flown,
Your half resisting lips were press’d,
An instant to my own.
That instant seem’d an age of bliss,
Unmingled with regret,
And lingers sweetly that dear kiss,
In fragrant freshness yet.
The bird of night sang sweet and loud,
To greet the rising moon,
Which circled into sight, you vowed,
At least an hour too soon.
But high above the song of bird,
From out the twilight dim,
A weird and mystic voice I heard,
Sad as Hope’s fun’ral hymn:
It told of change that time would bring—
Dark shadowings of sadness;
Of young life’s gloomiest picturings,
Upon a ground of madness.
You whispered faith beyond the skies,
And pledg’d thy heart of youth,
And tear drops from those earnest eyes
Seemed vouchers of thy truth;
’Twas Destiny—I cannot blame
Though happiness is gone;
Unchanged thro’ all I still remain,
And living must love on.
Thou wert my being, breath and thought,
I lived for thee alone,
It was thy happiness I sought,
I thought not of my own.
I madly worshipped, yet my soul
Nor would, nor could be free.
As magnet trembles to the pole
My being turned to thee.
If every star of hope were set
In its eternal rest,
I’d feel some joy were left me yet,
If thou wert only blest.
Thine angel face, I see it now,
In beauty’s hues elysian;
Thy glowing cheek, and snowy brow,
An omnipresent vision.
Bright summer’s gaudy blooms enwreathe
Our trysting tree to-day,
And bud and bloom sweet mem’ries breathe
Of darling Sallie May.
Thy golden locks and azure eyes,
Still whisper love’s sweet story,
And brightly’ll gild my evening skies
With more than morning glory.
And ever thus, as it is now,
My future thou must fill,
O’er ruined hopes, and broken vow,
I can but love thee still.
Man loves but once, a mournful truth,
No idle jest nor dream,
If disappointment blights in youth,
Then winter reigns supreme.