As Clemence! when I saw thee last <br />Trip down the Rue de Seine, <br />And turning, when thy form had past, <br />I said, 'We meet again,'-- <br />I dreamed not in that idle glance <br />Thy latest image came, <br />And only left to memory's trance <br />A shadow and a name. <br /> <br />The few strange words my lips had taught <br />Thy timid voice to speak, <br />Their gentler signs, which often brought <br />Fresh roses to thy cheek, <br />The trailing of thy long loose hair <br />Bent o'er my couch of pain, <br />All, all returned, more sweet, more fair; <br />Oh, had we met again! <br /> <br />I walked where saint and virgin keep <br />The vigil lights of Heaven, <br />I knew that thou hadst woes to weep, <br />And sins to be forgiven; <br />I watched where Genevieve was laid, <br />I knelt by Mary's shrine, <br />Beside me low, soft voices prayed; <br />Alas! but where was thine? <br /> <br />And when the morning sun was bright, <br />When wind and wave were calm, <br />And flamed, in thousand-tinted light, <br />The rose of Notre Dame, <br />I wandered through the haunts of men, <br />From Boulevard to Quai, <br />Till, frowning o'er Saint Etienne, <br />The Pantheon's shadow lay. <br /> <br />In vain, in vain; we meet no more, <br />Nor dream what fates befall; <br />And long upon the stranger's shore <br />My voice on thee may call, <br />When years have clothed the line in moss <br />That tells thy name and days, <br />And withered, on thy simple cross, <br />The wreaths of Pere-la-Chaise!<br /><br />Oliver Wendell Holmes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/la-grisette/
