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Edith Nesbit - The Ferry
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DRAW close the curtains, and shut out 
    The spring`s green glow and glitter; 
        The resurrection-life of spring 
        To me brings no fresh blossoming; 
I`m wearied of the flowers about-- 
    The London sparrows` twitter. 


If I could dream--if I could see 
    Once more the slow smooth river, 
        The narrow path she used to tread, 
        The sunlight on her little head, 
The white fire of the hawthorn tree-- 
    But I shall see them never. 


Only the boat in dreams I steer 
    Among the tufted rushes, 
        I see her white gown through the grass, 
        That thrills with love to feel her pass; 
Only in dreams again I hear 
    Those unforgotten thrushes. 


Sometimes in dreams I see her stand, 
    Her hand held out, and making 
        The sweet unreal so vivid seem, 
        I only know it is a dream 
When I reach out to take her hand, 
    And find no hand for taking. 


So once she stood; and I--too weak 
    To dare to say, `I love her`-- 
        I dropped her hand, and took the oar 
        And rowed her to the farther shore; 
I had my chance, and did not speak, 
    And chances now are over. 


How dark the room has grown!--yet no, 
    The sky is blue above me; 
        This is the boat--the hawthorn tree 
        Is showering blossoms down on me; 
And she is here as long ago, 
    And she has learned to love me!
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