As a twig trembles which a bird
Lights on to sing, then leaves unbent,
So is my memory thrilled and stirred;
I only know she came and went.

As clasps some lake, by gusts unriven,
The blue dome's measureless content,
So my soul held that moment's heaven;--
I only know she came and went.

As at one bound, our swift Spring heaps
The orchard full of bloom and scent,
So clove her May my wintry sleeps;--
I only know she came and went.

An angel stood and met my gaze
Through the low doorway of my tent;
The tent is struck, the vision stays;--
I only know she came and went.

[Illustration]

Oh, when the room grows slowly dim,
And life's last oil is nearly spent,
One gush of light these eyes will brim,
Only to think she came and went.

_J.R. Lowell._

[Illustration]