Читать книгу The Old Soldier's Story: Poems and Prose Sketches - Riley James Whitcomb - Страница 14

With her face between his hands!

Was it any wonder she

Stood atiptoe tremblingly?

As his lips along the strands

Of her hair went lavishing

Tides of kisses, such as swing

Love's arms to like iron bands. —

With her face between his hands!

And the hands – the hands that pressed

The glad face – Ah! where are they?

Folded limp, and laid away

Idly over idle breast?

He whose kisses drenched her hair,

As he caught and held her there,

In Love's alien, lost lands,

With her face between his hands?

Was it long and long ago,

When her face was not as now,

Dim with tears? nor wan her brow

As a winter-night of snow?

Nay, anointing still the strands

Of her hair, his kisses flow

Flood-wise, as she dreaming stands,

With her face between his hands.