Has she Forgotten. (down Around the River Poems)

I. Has she forgotten? On this very May / We were to meet here, with the birds and bees, / As on that Sabbath, underneath the trees / We strayed among the tombs, and stripped away / The vines from these old granites, cold and gray -- / And yet, indeed, not grim enough were they / To stay our kisses, smiles and ecstacies, / Or closer voice-lost vows and rhapsodies. / Has she forgotten -- that the May has won / Its promise? -- that the bird-songs from the tree / Are sprayed above the grasses as the sun / Might jar the dazzling dew down showeringly? / Has she forgotten life -- love -- everyone -- / Has she forgotten me -- forgotten me?

II. Low, low down in the violets I press / My lips and whisper to her. Does she hear, / And yet hold silence, though I call her dear, / Just as of old, save for the tearfulness / Of the clenched eyes, and the soul's vast distress? / Has she forgotten thus the old caress / That made our breath a quickened atmosphere / That failed nigh unto swooning with the sheer / Delight? Mine arms clutch now this earthen heap / Sodden with tears that flow on ceaselessly / As autumn rains the long, long, long nights weep / In memory of days that used to be, -- / Has she forgotten these? And, in her sleep, / Has she forgotten me -- forgotten me?