Cross Roads

OTHER DAYS

     I wonder if you ever dream of other days,
     Because, sometimes, at twilight when the sunset
        plays
     Half wistfully across the polished oaken floor,
     I see you smiling—standing in your place once more.

     (Do you remember little things we used to say?
     They wouldn't mean so very much to us to-day....
     Do you remember how I wore a gown of blue,
     Because it brought the haze of autumn clouds to you?
     Do you remember how I said you didn't care—
     And how you laughed at me and rumpled up my
        hair?
     Do you remember how the tears stood in my eyes
     At your good-by when darkness overhung the skies?)

     I wonder if you ever dream of other days?
     Because, sometimes at twilight when the sunset plays
     Half wistfully across your empty cozy-chair,
     I turn and half expect to see you smiling there!

     THIS IS TO YOU, DEAR,
     TO YOU, UNKNOWING;
     JUST AS THE SOUTH WIND
     WISTFULLY BLOWING
     TOUCHES SOME FLOWER—

     SO IS MY SONG, DEAR,
     THROUGH EVERY HOUR,
     ALL THE DAY LONG, DEAR,
     TO YOU, UNKNOWING!