# The Lovers (Cary)

As published in Carys’ Poetical Works.
THE LOVERS.
Thou marvellest why so oft her eyes Fill with the heavy dew of tears— Have I not told thee that there lies A shadow darkly on her years? Life was to her one sunny whole, Made up of visions fancy wove, Till that the waters of her soul Were troubled by the torch of love. I knew when first the sudden pause Upon her spirit’s sunshine fell: Alas! I little guessed the cause, ’Twas hidden in her heart so well. Our lives since early infancy Had flowed as rills together flow, And now to hide her thought from me Was bitterer than to tell its wo.
One night, when clouds with anguish black A tempest in her bosom woke, She crushed the bitter tear-drops back, And told me that her heart was broke! I learned it when the autumn hours With wailing winds around us sighed— ’Twas summer when her love’s young flowers Burst into glorious life and died: No—now I can remember well, ’Twas the soft mouth of sun and shower; A thousand times I’ve heard her tell The season, and the very hour: For now, whene’er the tear-drops start, As if to ease its throbbing pain, She leans her head upon my heart And tells the very tale again.
’Tis something of a moon, that beamed Upon her weak and trembling form, And one beside, on whom she leaned, That scarce had stronger heart or arm— Of souls united there until Death the last ties of life shall part, And a fond kiss whose rapturous thrill Still vibrates softly in her heart.
It is an era strange, yet sweet, Which every woman’s thought has known, When first her young heart learns to beat To the soft music of a tone; That era when she first begins To know what love alone can teach, That there are hidden depths within Which friendship never yet could reach: And all Earth has of bitter wo Is light beside her hopleless doom Who sees love’s first sweet star below Fade slowly till it sets in gloom. There may be heavier grief to move The heart that mourns an idol dead, But one who weeps a living love Has surely little left to dread.
I cannot tell why love so true As theirs should only end in gloom; Some mystery that I never knew Was woven darkly with their doom. I only know their dream was vain, And that they woke to find it past, And when by chance they met again, It was not as they parted last. His was not faith that lightly dies, For truth and love as clearly shone In the blue heaven of his soft eyes, As the dark midnight of her own: And therefore Heaven alone can tell What are his living visions now; But hers—the eye can read too well The language written on her brow.
In the soft twilight, dim and sweet, Once watching by the lattice pane, She listened for his coming feet, For whom she never looked in vain: Then hope shone brightly on her brow, That had not learned its after fears— Alas! she cannot sit there now, But that her dark eyes fill with tears! And every woodland pathway dim And bower of roses cool and sweet, That speak of vanished days and him, Are spots forbidden to her feet. No thought within her bosom stirs But wakes some feeling dark and dread: God keep thee from a doom like hers— Of living when the hopes are dead!
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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