After a length of summer miles
I met my old love on the road.
One of her unremembering smiles
Greeted me as I passed and bowed.

She had her friend with her; whilst I—

I, who was walking, was alone;
Her smile was such, as she drove by,
The wisest friend had never known.

And yet, for all her easy smile,
I knew that shoe would see, instead
Of her friend’s face, within a while
(Between the little things she said!)

A field of oats, swayed to-and-fro
With the wind’s kisses, silver-gray,—
This on the hill, while, far below,
A great raft slowly went its way,

Where the wide river slept, all blue.
—Because all these were hers to pass,
That she would say this thing, I knew.
“He spoke of this—one day—alas!”