Reminiscence
We sang old love-songs on the wayIn sad and merry snatches,Your fingers o’er the strings astrayStrumming the random catches.
And ever, as the skiff plied onAmong the trailing willows,Trekking the darker deeps to shunThe gleaming sandy shallows,
It seemed that we had, ages gone,In some far summer weather,When this same faery moonlight shone,Sung these same songs together.
And every grassy cape we passed,And every reedy island,Even the bank’d cloud in the westThat loomed a sombre highland;
And you, with dewmist on your hair,Crowned with a wreath of lilies,Laughing like Lalage the fairAnd tender-eyed like Phyllis:
I know not if ‘t were here at home,By some old wizard’s orders,Or long ago in Crete or RomeOr fair Provencal borders,
But now, as when a faint flame breaksFrom out its smouldering embers,My heart stirs in its sleep, and wakes,And yet but half-remembers
That you and I some other timeMoved through this dream of glory,Like lovers in an ancient rhyme,A long-forgotten story.