Читать книгу The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 03, No. 15, January, 1859 - Various - Страница 3

  It was the autumn of the year;

  The strawberry-leaves were red and sere;

  October's airs were fresh and chill,

  When, pausing on the windy hill,

  The hill that overlooks the sea,

  You talked confidingly to me,

  Me, whom your keen artistic sight

  Has not yet learned to read aright,

  Since I have veiled my heart from you,

  And loved you better than you knew.

  You told me of your toilsome past,

  The tardy honors won at last,

  The trials borne, the conquests gained,

  The longed-for boon of Fame attained:

  I knew that every victory

  But lifted you away from me,—

  That every step of high emprise

  But left me lowlier in your eyes;

  I watched the distance as it grew,

  And loved you better than you knew.

  You did not see the bitter trace

  Of anguish sweep across my face;

  You did not hear my proud heart beat

  Heavy and slow beneath your feet;

  You thought of triumphs still unwon,

  Of glorious deeds as yet undone;—

  And I, the while you talked to me,

  I watched the gulls float lonesomely

  Till lost amid the hungry blue,

  And loved you better than you knew.

  You walk the sunny side of Fate;

  The wise world smiles, and calls you great;

  The golden fruitage of success

  Drops at your feet in plenteousness;

  And you have blessings manifold,—

  Renown, and power, and friends, and gold;

  They build a wall between us twain

  Which may not be thrown down again;—

  Alas! for I, the long years through,

  Have loved you better than you knew.

  Your life's proud aim, your art's high truth

  Have kept the promise of your youth;

  And while you won the crown which now

  Breaks into bloom upon your brow,

  My soul cried strongly out to you

  Across the ocean's yearning blue,

  While, unremembered and afar,

  I watched you, as I watch a star

  Through darkness struggling into view,

  And loved you better than you knew.

  I used to dream, in all these years,