In the Sad September Gloaming.
In the sad September gloaming, when
the pallid mists are drawn1
O’er the meadow and the river, like a web of ghostly lawn,2
And dark, and still, the moorland rolls, for many a purple mile,3
’Tis then, my love, I miss you most, who miss you all the while.4
Our wedded days were sweet as swift, and since we’ve been apart5
Your mem’ry, like a twilight mist, clings ever round my heart,6
And ofttimes on a night like this, I rest beside the stile,7
And lose the present in the past, to dream of you awhile.8
There’s bonnie Kate, and gentle Nell, and others too beside,9
But if ’twere but to ask, to have a helpmate by my side,10
I could not patch a broken heart where ancient longings brood,11
Or garnish for a second bride its haunted solitude.12
Through the years, with all their changing, I have held that somewhere still,13
There’s a white soul holds unbroken that old faith no change can kill,14
And I’ll keep the troth an angel trusts, though given a simple girl,15
And with clean lips shall meet her kiss within the gates of pearl.16