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Pulp Fiction, 1865 · page 255 of 400

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The Argosy — page 255: Pulp Fiction, 1865

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240 YEARS I never loved him ; for awhile We two were passing friends ; and yet I learned to prize the slow, sad smile Whichtouched his features when we met, His words of greeting, light and brief, The clasp his fingers left on mine, And saw, with vague, unspoken grief, Thesigns which marked his life’s decline. And when, awaiting certain doom, He lay at last, serene and calm, I often sought his lonesome room, With flowers and words offriendly balm ; And when I bathed his aching brow, Or read, or talked—still, all the while, His earnest eyes—they haunt me now— Repaid me with that slow, sad smile. At last, one day, when gathering shades Madethespring landscape chilland drear, He said, ‘‘ Dear friend, the sunshine fades ; To-morrow I shall not be here. ** And when youcome, you will not see This trembling hand, this thinning face, So—you were always kind to me— Grant me, I pray, one gift of grace. ‘“*T cannot reach you where you stand, Come closer, while I say good-bye, AFTER. Nay, closer—let me hold your hand, And kiss you once before I die.” ~ Ah, why that sudden storm of tears? I did not love him—wherefore then Would I have given all my years To bring him back to life again ? And when, next morn, beside the door, I waited in the soft May rain, They told me he had gone before, And I had culled my flowers in vain. Ah, why, when half ascore of years Across his low, green grave have moved, Do I bedew with bitter tears The grave of one I never loved ? We were but casual friends, at best ; A word, a smile, and all was said ; I stood not near his heart, nor guessed That I should grieve if he were dead. And yet, if on the earth there be One soul that holds me half so dear As his last blessing is to me, Or his sad memory, year by year, It will be all I ask or crave, To smooth my bed or bless my sleep, Even though the whisper haunt my grave, **I did notlove her—wherefore weep?” Gomicbooks.co