1861

THREE SUNSETS

by Lewis Carroll

THREE SUNSETS -

HE saw her once, and in the glance,

A moment's glance of meeting eyes,

His heart stood still in sudden trance:

He trembled with a sweet surprise-

All in the waning light she stood,

The star of perfect womanhood. -

That summer-eve his heart was light:

With lighter step he trod the ground:

And life was fairer in his sight,

And music was in every sound:

He blessed the world where there could be

So beautiful a thing as she. -

There once again, as evening fell

And stars were peering overhead,

Two lovers met to bid farewell:

The western sun gleamed faint and red,

Lost in a drift of purple cloud

That wrapped him like a funeral-shroud. -

Long time the memory of that night-

The hand that clasped, the lips that kissed,

The form that faded from his sight

Slow sinking through the tearful mist-

In dreamy music seemed to roll

Through the dark chambers of his soul. -

So after many years he came

A wanderer from a distant shore:

The street, the house, were still the same,

But those he sought were there no more:

His burning words, his hopes and fears,

Unheeded fell on alien ears. -

Only the children from their play

Would pause the mournful tale to hear,

Shrinking in half-alarm away,

Or, step by step, would venture near

To touch with timid curious hands

That strange wild man from other lands. -

He sat beside the busy street,

There, where he last had seen her face;

And thronging memories, bitter-sweet,

Seemed yet to haunt the ancient place:

Her footfall ever floated near:

Her voice was ever in his ear. -

He sometimes, as the daylight waned

And evening mists began to roll,

In half-soliloquy complained

Of that black shadow on his soul,

And blindly fanned, with cruel care,

The ashes of a vain despair. -

The summer fled: the lonely man

Still lingered out the lessening days:

Still, as the night drew on, would scan

Each passing face with closer gaze-

Till, sick at heart, he turned away,

And sighed "She will not come to-day." -

So by degrees his spirit bent

To mock its own despairing cry,

In stern self-torture to invent

New luxuries of agony,

And people all the vacant space

With visions of her perfect face. -

Then for a moment she was nigh,

He heard no step, but she was there;

As if an angel suddenly

Were bodied from the viewless air,

And all her fine ethereal frame

Should fade as swiftly as it came. -

So, half in fancy's sunny trance,

And half in misery's aching void,

With set and stony countenance

His bitter being he enjoyed,

And thrust for ever from his mind

The happiness he could not find. -

As when the wretch, in lonely room,

To selfish death is madly hurled,

The glamour of that fatal fume

Shuts out the wholesome living world-

So all his manhood's strength and pride

One sickly dream had swept aside. -

Yea, brother, and we passed him there,

But yesterday, in merry mood,

And marvelled at the lordly air

That shamed his beggar's attitude,

Nor heeded that ourselves might be

Wretches as desperate as he; -

Who let the thought of bliss denied