Two Paths

A path across a meadow fair and sweet, Where clover-blooms the lithesome grasses greet, A path worn smooth by his impetuous feet. A straight, swift path—and at its end, star Gleaming behind the lilac’s fragrant bar, And her soft eyes, more luminous by far! A path across the meadow fair and sweet, Still sweet and fair where blooms and grasses meet— A path worn smooth by his reluctant feet. A long, straight path—and, at its end, a gate Behind whose bars she doth in silence wait To keep the tryst, if he come soon or late!