Some poetry is lived as well as written.
You were a poem incarnate, dancing grace
In that dazzling gray-green dress you wore!
And as I gazed upon you on that night
Past happy times came crowding to my mind
When we had laughed and gaily danced together
To spirited and most melodious music;
Free spirits were we for an evening bright,
Rid of the hectic fevers of the world.
Enchanting pretty were you on that night,
And happy was I in your presence sweet,
Bethinking back ten years or more before
To beauty earlier found and known with you—
Of tree and cliff and leaf-strewn, rustling path.
First in the quivering warmth of May and June,
Later amid the riotous autumn hues;
Ecstatic moments spent atop the cliff
Aroused in us a dreamlike mystic mood—
There flowed the sparkling Hudson way below,
Far-distant hills arising east and north,
And twinkling lights at eve across the river.
Then it communion almost holy seemed,
With you and all of Nature's glory shared.
Nothing can now disturb or touch all that,
Dislodge or move it from my memory;
Nor can the sometime follies, failures too,
That will beset the uneven course of love
Detract from the dear poetry of you,
Which still I warmly treasure in my mind
And oft recall in patient solitude.
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