On the City Wall

Upon the City Ramparts, lit up by sunset gleam,The Blue eyes that conquer, meet the Darker eyes that dream.

The Dark eyes, so Eastern, and the Blue eyes from the West,The last alight with action, the first so full of rest.

Brown, that seem to hold the Past; its magic mystery,Blue, that catch the early light, of ages yet to be.

Meet and fall and meet again, then linger, look, and smile,Time and distance all forgotten, for a little while.

Happy on the city wall, in the warm spring weather,All the force of Nature's laws, drawing them together.

East and West so gaily blending, for a little space,All the sunshine seems to centre, round th' Enchanted place!

One rides down the dusty road, one watches from the wall,Azure eyes would fain return, and Amber eyes recall;

Would fain be on the ramparts, and resting heart to heart,But time o' love is overpast, East and West must part.

Blue eyes so clear and brilliant! Brown eyes so dark and deep!Those are dim, and ride away, these cry themselves to sleep.

"Oh, since Love is all so short, the sob so near the smile,Blue eyes that always conquer us, is it worth your while?"

There were Roses in the hedges, and Sunshine in the sky,Red Lilies in the sedges, where the water rippled by,A thousand Bulbuls singing, oh, how jubilant they were,And a thousand flowers flinging their sweetness on the air.

But you, who sat beside me, had a shadow in your eyes,Their sadness seemed to chide me, when I gave you scant replies;You asked "Did I remember?" and "When had I ceased to care?"In vain you fanned the ember, for the love flame was not there.

"And so, since you are tired of me, you ask me to forget,What is the use of caring, now that you no longer care?When Love is dead his Memory can only bring regret,But how can I forget you with the flowers in your hair?"

What use the scented Roses, or the azure of the sky?They are sweet when Love reposes, but then he had to die.What could I do in leaving you, but ask you to forget,--I suffered, too, in grieving you; I all but loved you yet.

But half love is a treason, that no lover can forgive,I had loved you for a season, I had no more to give.You saw my passion faltered, for I could but let you see,And it was not I that altered, but Fate that altered me.

And so, since I am tired of love, I ask you to forget,What is the use you caring, now that I no longer care?When Love is dead, his Memory can only bring regret;Forget me, oh, forget me, and my flower-scented hair!