Contents -Volume INDEX -AUTHOR INDEX -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889

A Little While I Fain Would Linger Yet

By Paul Hamilton Hayne (1830–1886)

A LITTLE while (my life is almost set!)

I fain would pause along the downward way,

Musing an hour in this sad sunset-ray,

While, Sweet! our eyes with tender tears are wet:

A little hour I fain would linger yet.

A little while I fain would linger yet,

All for love’s sake, for love that cannot tire;

Though fervid youth be dead, with youth’s desire,

And hope has faded to a vague regret,

A little while I fain would linger yet.

A little while I fain would linger there:

Behold! who knows what strange, mysterious bars

’Twixt souls that love, may rise in other stars?

Nor can love deem the face of death is fair;

A little while I still would linger here.

A little while I yearn to hold thee fast,

Hand locked in hand, and loyal heart to heart,

(O pitying Christ! those woeful words, “We part!”)

So ere the darkness fall, the light be past,

A little while I fain would hold thee fast.

A little while, when light and twilight meet;

Behind, our broken years; before, the deep

Weird wonder of the last unfathomed sleep;

A little while I still would clasp thee, Sweet;

A little while, when night and twilight meet.

A little while I fain would linger here;

Behold! who knows what soul-dividing bars

Earth’s faithful loves may part in other stars?

Nor can love deem the face of death is fair:

A little while I still would linger here.