Ella Wheeler Wilcox (Элла Уилкокс)
An Afternoon
I am stirred by the dream of an afternoon Of a perfect day-though it was not June; The lilt of winds, and the droning tune That a busy city was humming. And a bronze-brown head, and lips like wine Leaning out through the window-vine A-list for steps that were maybe mine- Eager steps that were coming. I can see it all, as a dreamer may- The tender smile on your lips that day, And the glow on your cheek as we rode away Into the golden weather. And a love-light shone in your eyes of brown- I swear there did!-as we drove down The crowded avenue out of the town, Through shadowy lanes, together: Drove out into the sunset-skies That glowed with wonderful crimson dyes; And with soul and spirit, and heart and eyes, We silently drank their splendour. But the golden glory that lit the place Was not alone from the sunset’s grace- For I saw in your fair, uplifted face A light that was wondrously tender. I say I saw it. And yet to-day I ask myself, in a cynical way, Was it only a part you had learned to play, To see me act the lover? And I curse myself for a fool. And yet I would willingly die without one regret Could I bring back the day whose sun has set- And you-and live it over.
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