Erotic Fridays: Anne Reeve Aldrich

ANNE_REEVE_ALDRICH

Every measure of this poem just speaks to me and of lovers lost long ago.  Have a great day.

F. M. Laster

“The best revenge is massive success.” – Frank Sinatra

When I Was Thine

by Anne Reeve Aldrich

“Ricordati da me quand ‘ero teco.” Tuscan Rispetto.
THE sullen rain breaks on the convent window,
The distant chanting dies upon mine ears.
—Soon comes the morn for which my soul hath languished,
For which my soul hath yearned these many years;
Forget of me this life which I resign,
Think of me in the days when I was thine.

Forget the paths my weary feet have travelled,
The thorns and stones that pierced them as I went;
These later days of prayer and scourge and penance,
These hours of anguish now so nearly spent.
Forget I left thy life for life divine,
Think of me in the days when I was thine.

Forget the rigid brow as thou wilt see it,
The folded eyelids, and the quiet mouth.
Think how my eyes grew brighter at thy coming,
Think of those fervid noontides in the South.
Think when my kisses made life half divine,
Think of me in the days when I was thine.

Forget this nearer past, I do adjure thee,
Remember only what was long ago.
Think when our love was fire unquenched by ashes,
Think of our Spring, and not this Winter’s snow.
Forget me as I lie, past speech or sign.
Think of me in the days when I was thine.

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