The End Of A Dream - A poem by Albert Bigelow Paine

The End Of A Dream.

THE sun was just as bright, perhaps,
   That afternoon in May,
And the meadows just as green, I think,
   As they are there to-day;
And the sky and sea were just as blue,
   And yet it seemed to me
A cloud was over all the land,
   A storm o'er all the sea.

For we had met there on the shore^___
   We two, had met to part^___
And the cloud was in my aching brain,
   The storm within my heart;
And I knew before we met there
   That I could but hear the worst,
Yet when I looked into her face
   I thought my heart would burst.

She was so pale, so beautiful,-
   She spoke so sad and sweet,
Her voice came like the murmur
   Of the waters at our feet;
While the gentle breeze played softly
   With her loosely-prisoned hair;
I took her pure, white hand in mine
   'Twas cold, and trembled there.

But when I asked if she were cold,
   She only shook her head.
"The day is fair, and I am warm
   Except at heart," she said.
And as she told me of the wrong
   That severed her from me,
I begged her to seek out a home
   With me beyond the sea.

But she gently, firmly answered,
   That her duty was to stay^___
That a parent had commanded
   And she could not disobey;
And she told me as we parted,
   That we must not meet again^___
The past could only bring regret,
   The present only pain.

And then we kissed and said good-by,
   Just as we used to do.
I saw a tear was in her eye,
   And one was in mine, too.
The pleasant dream is ended now,
   As all dreams end at last.
I know not if my life is worse,
   Or better, for the past!

^__Albert Bigelow Paine.