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Poem by Alice Hunt Bartlett Celebrants Of lover’s partings breathes this vibrant hour, Through amber air the golden leaves float down, A tender silence wraps us close; the town Lies soft in gauzy distance from this bower, Where autumn’s pregnant peril seems to dower With gift of death a waiting world . . . the crown! My own, in your dear arms here would I drown, Ere withered falls the promise of love’s flower. While all the lovers of the years, our friends, Clasp fondly with us here their wistful hands, Around us, mystically set, extends Enchanted ground, which only he who understands The precious gift of love may tread . . . as bends An azure sky o’er gold and russet lands. Alice Hunt Bartlett Alice Hunt Bartlett's other poems: ![]() 1217 Views |
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