Classic Poem

Right where you sit she sat
That last, last night we knew —
With roses in her hat,
A dress of blue;
And, just like you,
She would not have a light
But just the fire,
And all outdoors was night,
And night a lyre
That played a hundred tunes,
Old Junes,
Old Junes and new.
It seemed that all the songs I ever heard
Were echoed in the song of just one bird
Who would not stop when westward sank the sun,
Who would not stop until his song was done,
His singing through.

But still the musk
Came to us through the dusk,
And low we talked about another day
When she would go away.
" To-morrow, I suppose " —
And that was far.
" To-morrow " — no one knows
How near they are.

The camp
Was sleeping — hunyack, Injun, tramp
And all the crew.
And I sat here
And she sat there like you —
So near,
And yet so far she seemed to be,
For mountains lay between the maid and me.

There was no light.
She seemed to fade into the night
As goes a friend,
Up hill, beyond the bend,
And out of sight.

Then we sat silent; silent so
She rose to go.
We said good-by,
And I,
I dared not sigh,
I dared not speak a word.

The valley does not wed the sky,
The weed the bird.
Next day her father's car
Fell like a falling star
Beyond the hill
And left me standing still
With foolish notions thrilling through my head —
Thank God, unsaid.

And, as the eve
Faded that night of nights —
A warning, I believe —
A little later came the accident
And dimmer lights
And woods that went
In deeper dark,
Until the spark
Fled from my eyes and left on earth behind
Only her lovely image on my mind —
And I was blind.

I am the filer here, a handy man.
I can feel
As few men can
To sharpen steel.
I file the saws
And play my little part,
Because
To file a saw or hang an ax is art.

I can not see,
But know the woods, the trees,
I can not see,
Yet hear their melodies.
And so
I can not see you, girl, and yet you seem
The living presence of a blind man's dream.
I can not see — and yet you seem to bring
The pulse of old, the pain, and everything.
You touch me — kiss me — God, can it be true!
And you are you?
. . . . . . . .
I can not see,
Yet see, who could not see before;
And you shall be
My eyes forevermore.