Through the Trees, by Anna Katherine Green

Through the Trees

If I had known whose face I'd see
Above the hedge, beside the rose;
If I had known whose voice I'd hear
Make music where the wind-flower blows, --
I had not come; I had not come.   If I had known his deep "I love"
Could make her face so fair to see;
If I had known her shy "And I"
Could make him stoop so tenderly, --
I had not come; I had not come.   But what knew I? The summer breeze
Stopped not to cry "Beware! Beware!"
The vine-wreaths drooping from the trees
Caught not my sleeve with soft "Take care!"
And so I came, and so I came.   The roses that his hands have plucked,
Are sweet to me, are death to me;
Between them, as through living flames
I pass, I clutch them, crush them, see!
The bloom for her, the thorn for me.   The brooks leap up with many a song--
I once could sing, like them could sing;
They fall; 'tis like a sigh among
A world of joy and blossoming.--
Why did I come? Why did I come?   The blue sky burns like altar fires--
How sweet her eyes beneath her hair!
The green earth lights its fragrant pyres;
The wild birds rise and flush the air;
God looks and smiles, earth is so fair.   But ah! 'twixt me and yon bright heaven
Two bended heads pass darkling by;
And loud above the bird and brook
I hear a low "I love, " "And I"--
And hide my face. Ah God! Why? Why? - Anna Katherine Green