An Afternoon

I am stirred by the dream of an afternoon     Of a perfect day - though it was not June;     The lilt of winds, and the droning tune          That a busy city was humming.     And a bronze-brown head, and lips like wine     Leaning out through the window-vine     A-list for steps that were maybe mine -          Eager steps that were coming.     I can see it all, as a dreamer may -     The tender smile on your lips that day,     And the glow on your cheek as we rode away          Into the golden weather.     And a love-light shone in your eyes of brown -     I swear there did! - as we drove down     The crowded avenue out of the town,          Through shadowy lanes, together:     Drove out into the sunset-skies     That glowed with wonderful crimson dyes;     And with soul and spirit, and heart and eyes,          We silently drank their splendour.     But the golden glory that lit the place     Was not alone from the sunset's grace -     For I saw in your fair, uplifted face          A light that was wondrously tender.     I say I saw it.    And yet to-day     I ask myself, in a cynical way,     Was it only a part you had learned to play,          To see me act the lover?     And I curse myself for a fool.    And yet     I would willingly die without one regret     Could I bring back the day whose sun has set -          And you - and live it over.