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Stedman and Hutchinson, comps. A Library of American Literature:
An Anthology in Eleven Volumes. 1891.
Vols. IX–XI: Literature of the Republic, Part IV., 1861–1889

The Old Story

By Mary Newmarch Prescott (1849–1888)

[Born in Calais, Me., 1849. Died at Deer Island, Amesbury, Mass., 1888.]

BY the pleasant paths we know

All familiar flowers would grow,

Though we two were gone;

Moon and stars would rise and set,

Dawn the laggard night forget,

And the world move on.

Spring would carol through the wood,

Life be counted sweet and good,

While the seasons sped;

Winter storms would prove their might,

Winter frosts make bold to bite,

Clouds lift overhead.

Still the sunset lights would glow,

Still in the heaven-appointed bow

In its place be hung;

Not one flower the less would bloom,

Though we two had met our doom,

No song less be sung.

Other lovers through the dew

Would go, loitering, two and two,

When the day was done;

Lips would pass the kiss divine,

Hearts would beat like yours and mine,—

Hearts that beat as one.