And one year seems not so long! ...
Still I see you standing there
In the firelight's yellow fall,
And the glimmer of your hair
Fading, - round my heart a pall, -
And my love is dead beneath!
Was it, then, a thing so slight? ...
Strange, to-night returns the night
When you stabb'd it with a breath!
Even now the firelight streams
Bloodlike o'er the figur'd floor,
But a light shines thro' my dreams
Of sweet eyes undream'd before.
And you call me fickle? Then
Would you have me weep - or pray -
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The Yale and Second Regiment Games.