Explore "Poems: AN UNMARKED FESTIVAL" by Alice Meynell on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There's a feast undated yet: / Both our true lives hold it fast, -- / The first day we ever met. / What a great day came and passed! / -- Unknown then, but known at last.
And we met: You knew not me, / Mistress of your joys and fears; / Held my hands that held the key / Of the treasure of your years, / Of the fountain of your tears.
For you knew not it was I, / And I knew not it was you. / We have learnt, as days went by. / But a flower struck root and grew / Underground, and no one knew.
Days of days! Unmarked it rose, / In whose hours we were to meet; / And forgotten passed. Who knows, / Was earth cold or sunny, Sweet, / At the coming of your feet?
One mere day, we thought; the measure / Of such days the year fulfils. / Now, how dearly would we treasure / Something from its fields, its rills, / And its memorable hills;
-- But one leaf of oak or lime, / Or one blossom from its bowers / No one gathered at the time. / Oh, to keep that day of ours / By one relic of its flowers!