English poem
(After Armand Silvestre.)
by F. C. Philips (1849–1921)
When your hand was laid upon mine 'Twas in painful dread that I grasped it, For some hesitation malign, Made tremble the fingers that clasped it.
When you turned your forehead so near, 'Twas in painful dread that I kissed it, For some cruel prompting of fear Made me timidly seek to resist it.
Ah!--and my life thenceforward approved Sorrow's bitterness had o'ercome me, I only knew how I loved The day that had taken you from me.
IF THERE BE A GARDEN GAY.