| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XXV. Bitter Remembrance Departure | | By Coventry Patmore (18231896) |
| | | IT was not like your great and gracious ways! | |
| Do you, that have naught other to lament, | |
| Never, my Love, repent | |
| Of how, that July afternoon, | |
| You went, | 5 |
| With sudden, unintelligible phrase, | |
| And frightend eye, | |
| Upon your journey of so many days, | |
| Without a single kiss, or a good-bye? | |
| I knew, indeed, that you were parting soon; | 10 |
| And so we sate, within the low suns rays, | |
| You whispering to me, for your voice was weak, | |
| Your harrowing praise. | |
| Well, it was well | |
| To hear you such things speak, | 15 |
| And I could tell | |
| What made your eyes a growing gloom of love, | |
| As a warm South-wind sombres a March grove. | |
| And it was like your great and gracious ways | |
| To turn your talk on daily things, my Dear, | 20 |
| Lifting the luminous, pathetic lash | |
| To let the laughter flash, | |
| Whilst I drew near, | |
| Because you spoke so low that I could scarcely hear. | |
| But all at once to leave me at the last, | 25 |
| More at the wonder than the loss aghast, | |
| With huddled, unintelligible phrase, | |
| And frightend eye, | |
| And go your journey of all days | |
| With not one kiss, or a good-bye, | 30 |
| And the only loveless look the look with which you passd: | |
| Twas all unlike your great and gracious ways. | | | | |
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