Destroyers and Other Verses/The Journey from Havre

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PART I.


ALFRED MEISSNER.

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The Journey from Havre.
We raced through midsummer weather—A dust cloud danced in the heat—Through a country of gardens and orchardsAnd patches of simmering wheat.
You spoke of the chances that made youAn exile in foreign lands,Of life and death and hereafter—But gazed on my slender hands.
"Thrones totter and empires crumble,The times are in a whirl"—And then your thoughts went wanderingIn the tangle of a curl.
But when it came to parting,You were dumb, for you dared not speakA wish that was born of the dimpleThat nestles in either cheek.
The dingy lamplight flickered,But a silver midsummer moonSmiled through the dusky branchesOn the joy of an unasked boon.
Paris, August, 1847.
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