Do you recall that evening, the murmur of the sea, <br />The nightingale that sang in the eglantine, <br />Those scented white acacia sprays <br />That trembled in your bonnet? <br /> <br />Between the fallen rocks and thickly clustered vines <br />Where the path was barely six feet wide <br />We rode together side by side <br />Our arms entwined with one another. <br /> <br />You were a picture, stooping from your saddle <br />To pluck the scarlet eglantine <br />And pat the shaggy ruffled mane <br />Of the little bay horse that you loved. <br /> <br />Your dress, too light, would not keep straight <br />And caught upon the branches, <br />Light-heartedly you laughed to see <br />So many flowers everywhere—about the horse, <br />And in your arms, and dancing in your bonnet. <br /> <br />Do you remember the roar of the rain-swelled torrent <br />That filled the air with its spume and spray, <br />And how our grief seemed far away, <br />And how it was forgotten?<br /><br />Pete Crowther<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/do-you-recall-that-evening-trans-of-count-alexei/
