Poems (Chitwood)/Revisitation

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REVISITATION.
I have rambled out in the woods to-day— The old woods dark with leaves,Where the lute-like notes of the zephyrs play And the lark his matin weaves.I sat again in our trysting seat, With the grape vines wreathed across—There were flowers with blue eyes at my feet, And cups of the dew-bright moss.
I could see the shining waters plash, As the river sang its song,And at times I caught the whirl and flash As bird wings swept along. ​The willows threw their golden hair To the sunbeam's softened glow,And nameless flowers on the green-sward there Swayed softly to and fro.
I missed thee there. I saw the roof Of our old home o'er the hill,And through the sunbeam's shining woof, The blue smoke curling still;But I know that strangers dwell there now, And the vines around the doorDroop on thy curls and sunny brow, Sweet lost one, never more.
I sat in our dear old trysting-seat, And thought of the days gone by,—Oh, life has lost its sweetest sweet When the dew of the heart grows dry.'Tis not when the hair is mixed with gray, And three score years are told,But in a single hour or day We feel that we are old.
Oh, when the hopes to which we clung In a single hour have died—When closed is the eye and mute the tongue Of o loved one at our side,Our lips may be like roses bright, Yet the heart, a withered thing,Nor years may weave the shattered light, Nor the solace of Lethe bring.
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I sat in our trysting-seat to-day, And thought upon thy rest,No cares may pierce the roof of clay That lies above thy breast.Oh, thou hast gone in the light of youth To the rest of the peaceful fold,With a child-like soul and a lip of truth, Where the heart can ne'er grow cold.

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