When she comes home again!  A thousand ways
  I fashion, to myself, the tenderness
  Of my glad welcome:  I shall tremble—­yes;
And touch her, as when first in the old days
I touched her girlish hand, nor dared upraise
  Mine eyes, such was my faint heart’s sweet distress. 
  Then silence:  And the perfume of her dress: 
The room will sway a little, and a haze
  Cloy eyesight—­soulsight, even—­for a space: 
And tears—­yes; and the ache here in the throat,
  To know that I so ill deserve the place
Her arms make for me; and the sobbing note
  I stay with kisses, ere the tearful face
  Again is hidden in the old embrace.

[Illustration:  (LEONAINIE—­TITLE)]

LEONAINIE

Leonainie—­Angels named her;
  And they took the light
Of the laughing stars and framed her
  In a smile of white;
    And they made her hair of gloomy
    Midnight, and her eyes of bloomy
    Moonshine, and they brought her to me
  In the solemn night.—–­

In a solemn night of summer,
  When my heart of gloom
Blossomed up to greet the comer
  Like a rose in bloom;
    All forebodings that distressed me
    I forgot as Joy caressed me—­
    (Lying Joy! that caught and pressed me
  In the arms of doom!)

Only spake the little lisper
  In the Angel-tongue;
Yet I, listening, heard her whisper—­
  “Songs are only sung
    Here below that they may grieve you—­
    Tales but told you to deceive you,—­
    So must Leonainie leave you
  While her love is young.”

Then God smiled and it was morning. 
  Matchless and supreme
Heaven’s glory seemed adorning
  Earth with its esteem: 
    Every heart but mine seemed gifted
    With the voice of prayer, and lifted
    Where my Leonainie drifted
  From me like a dream.

[Illustration:  (LEONAINIE—­TAILPIECE)]

[Illustration:  (HER WAITING FACE)]

HER WAITING FACE

In some strange place
Of long-lost lands he finds her waiting face—­
Comes marveling upon it, unaware,
Set moonwise in the midnight of her hair.

[Illustration:  (THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW—­TITLE)]

THE OLD YEAR AND THE NEW

I

As one in sorrow looks upon
  The dead face of a loyal friend,
By the dim light of New Year’s dawn
  I saw the Old Year end.

Upon the pallid features lay
  The dear old smile—­so warm and bright
Ere thus its cheer had died away
  In ashes of delight.

The hands that I had learned to love
  With strength of passion half divine,
Were folded now, all heedless of
  The emptiness of mine.