Verse > Anthologies > Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. > An American Anthology, 1787–1900
Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908).  An American Anthology, 1787–1900.  1900.
946. We Walked among the Whispering Pines
By John Henry Boner
IT was a still autumnal day—
  So sadly still and strangely bright—
The hectic glow of quick decay
  Tinged everything with lovely light.
It warmly touched the fragrant air        5
  And fields of corn and crumbling vines
Along the golden Yadkin, where
  We walked among the whispering pines
Alas, that tender hectic glow
  Shone in her gentle, pallid face,        10
And none save God in heaven could know
  My agony to see its trace—
To watch those fatal roses bloom
  Upon her cheeks—red, cruel signs—
But all of love, not of the tomb,        15
  We spoke among the whispering pines.
Ah, fatal roses—never yet
  Have they deceived. She drooped and died.
We parted and we never met
  Again; but often at my side        20
An angel walks,—her step I know,—
  A viewless arm my neck entwines.
O angel love, so years ago
  We walked among the whispering pines.


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