An Old Picture

                                       By “Jay Archer Thorne”

The August moon hung overhead

     The dew flecked on the grass;

I looked into the roguish eyes

     Of one fair country lass.

And in their liquid depths I saw

     A land of paradise;

An undiscovered realm of bliss

     Ne’er viewed by lover’s eyes.

Thoughts of fair Eden filled my soul,

     The Promised Land before

Me lay, fairer than e’er was seen

     In far-off days of yore.

Her soft hand lay quite carelessly,

     Athwart the swinging gate;

Her dress of white clung to her form

     In one soft dreamy state.

But, as the loveliest sunset glow

     Must fade as comes the night,

So faded my fair Promised Land

     Far from my clinging sight.

Fate interposed; O, cruel fate!

     We ne’er did wrong to thee;

Thou’st brought a clouded sky to her

     And made a wreck of me.

But ah! One grain of peace I find,

     A privilege held dear;

I stroll beneath the August moon

     And fancy she is near.

Sept. 18, 1893

Pub. in Conn.

Valley Ad.,

    Sept. 30, ‘93