Post by lemacd on Jul 12, 2014 13:30:18 GMT
if our man were moved at finding love later in life (though i somehow don't imagine the age difference mattered to him at all, really), i wonder if he would share some of these sentiments. i found this poem randomly, thought it was sweet and was surprised to discover she was from Maine. i always enjoy discovering tidbits from my adopted homestate's literary history.
oh, and of course dear Captain doesn't have to worry about girlish graces. that would be... weird. i'm referring to the over all sentiment, naturally.
At Last
At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life's early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close at last at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled,
But you, dear heart, you love me now.
Though there are shadows on my brow
And furrows on my cheek, in truth,
The marks where Time's remorseless plough
Broke up the blooming sward of Youth,
Though fled is every girlish grace
Might win or hold a lover's vow,
Despite my sad and faded face,
And darkened heart, you love me now!
I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow,
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!
oh, and of course dear Captain doesn't have to worry about girlish graces. that would be... weird. i'm referring to the over all sentiment, naturally.
At Last
At last, when all the summer shine
That warmed life's early hours is past,
Your loving fingers seek for mine
And hold them close at last at last!
Not oft the robin comes to build
Its nest upon the leafless bough
By autumn robbed, by winter chilled,
But you, dear heart, you love me now.
Though there are shadows on my brow
And furrows on my cheek, in truth,
The marks where Time's remorseless plough
Broke up the blooming sward of Youth,
Though fled is every girlish grace
Might win or hold a lover's vow,
Despite my sad and faded face,
And darkened heart, you love me now!
I count no more my wasted tears;
They left no echo of their fall;
I mourn no more my lonesome years;
This blessed hour atones for all.
I fear not all that Time or Fate
May bring to burden heart or brow,
Strong in the love that came so late,
Our souls shall keep it always now!
