The waters of the river gleamed as brightly
And murmured with the same untiring flow,
The branches of the birches tossed as lightly,
Among them sang the breeze as soft and low,
A year ago.
We sat beneath the white-stemmed birches bending
To reach the gurgling waters of the bay,
We saw the boats their courses seaward wending,
And earth seemed fair,—before us life's long day,
Night far away.
But often clouds would veil the sunlight over,
A moment cast a shadow and float by;
So stealthily above our hearts would hover
Sad thoughts to pause a moment, pass and die,
We knew not why.
We heeded not the moaning of the river,
Nor did the wind a whispered message bring;
Ah, now I know they murmured—part forever!
For that dull gloom above us hovering,
Was Death's dark wing.