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three sunsets - david moore lyrics

he saw her once, and in the glance
a moment’s glance of meeting eyes
his heart stood still in sudden trance:
he trembled with a sweet surprise—
all in the waning light she stood
the star of perfect womanhood

that summer*eve his heart was light:
with lighter step he trod the ground:
and life was fairer in his sight
and music was in every sound;
he blessed the world where there could be
so bеautiful a thing as she

there oncе again, as evening fell
and stars were peering overhead
two lovers met to bid farewell:
the western sun gleamed faint and red
lost in a drift of purple cloud
that wrapped him like a funeral*shroud

long time the memory of that night—
the hand that clasped, the lips that kissed
the form that faded from his sight
slow sinking through the tearful mist—
in dreamy music seemed to roll
through the dark chambers of his soul
so after many years he came
a wanderer from a distant shore:
the street, the house, were still the same
but those he sought were there no more:
his burning words, his hopes and fears
unheeded fell on alien ears

only the children from their play
would pause the mournful tale to hear
shrinking in half*alarm away
or, step by step, would venture near
to touch with timid curious hands
that strange wild man from other lands

he sat beside the busy street
there, where he last had seen her face;
and thronging memories, bitter*sweet
seemed yet to haunt the ancient place:
her footfall ever floated near:
her voice was ever in his ear

he sometimes, as the daylight waned
and evening mists began to roll
in half*soliloquy complained
of that black shadow on his soul
and blindly fanned, with cruel care
the ashes of a vain despair
the summer fled: the lonely man
still lingered out the lessening days;
still, as the night drew on, would scan
each passing face with closer gaze—
till, sick at heart, he turned away
and sighed “she will not come to*day.”

so by degrees his spirit bent
to mock its own despairing cry

in stern self*torture to invent
new luxuries of agony
and people all the vacant sp*ce
with visions of her perfect face

then for a moment she was nigh
he heard no step, but she was there;
as if an angel suddenly
were bodied from the viewless air
and all her fine ethereal frame
should fade as swiftly as it came

so, half in fancy’s sunny trance
and half in misery’s aching void
with set and stony countenance
his bitter being he enjoyed
and thrust for ever from his mind
the happiness he could not find
as when the wretch, in lonely room
to selfish death is madly hurled
the glamour of that fatal fume
shuts out the wholesome living world—

so all his manhood’s strength and pride
one sickly dream had swept aside

yea, brother, and we passed him there
but yesterday, in merry mood
and marveled at the lordly air
that shamed his beggar’s attitude
nor heeded that ourselves might be
wretches as desperate as he;

who let the thought of bliss denied
make havoc of our life and powers
and pine, in solitary pride
for peace that never shall be ours
because we will not work and wait
in trustful patience for our fate

and so it chanced once more that she
came by the old familiar spot:
the face he would have died to see
bent o’er him, and he knew it not;
too rapt in selfish grief to hear
even when happiness was near

and pity filled her gentle breast
for him that would not stir nor speak
the dying crimson of the west
that faintly tinged his haggard cheek
fell on her as she stood, and shed
a glory round the patient head

ah, let him wake! the moments fly:
this awful tryst may be the last
and see, the tear, that dimmed her eye
had fallen on him ere she passed—
she passed: the crimson paled to gray
and hope departed with the day

the heavy hours of night went by
and silence quickened into sound
and light slid up the eastern sky
and life began its daily round—
but light and life for him were fled:
his name was numbered with the dead

- david moore lyrics

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