AT EVENTIDE

By HANNA BAIRD CAMPBELL

At eventide, dear heart, when I
Shall sleep beneath the quiet sky,
 I shall not see the light-winged lark,
 Against the darkening west, nor mark
The hours, like gray ghosts, stealing by.

I shall not know when night draws nigh,
But I shall hear your lonely cry—
 Your faltering footsteps in the dark
  At eventide.

I shall not care if violets shy,
Or snowdrifts, deep above me lie.
 But I shall know when life's dim spark
 Shall set you free, when you lie stark
Beside me there beneath the sky
  At eventide.