Classic Poem

If I could hear thy laughter, as of old
It rang in early autumn through the woods,
When berries of the mountain-ash, red-gold,
We gathered — happy in youth's tearless moods:
If only once again I could behold
The happy girlish smile upon thy face,
And watch thy figure in its girlish grace
As then I watched, — my life's tale would be told.

The mere delight, the joyous sense of this
Pure vision would bring peace; it would be bliss
Exceeding every agony of mine:
I should be happy then: it is reward
For me, worth every thrust of God's straight sword,
To hear one tender silver laugh of thine.