You did not know, how could you, dear,
How much you stood for? Life in you
Retained its touch of Eden dew,
And ever, through the droughtiest year,
My soul could bring her flagon here
And fill it to the brim with clear
Deep draughts of purity.
And time could never quench the flame
Of youth, that lit me through your eyes,
And cozened winter from my skies
Through all the years that went and came.
You did not know I used your name
To conjure by, and still the same
I found its potency.
You did not know that, as a phial
May garner close through dust and gloom
The essence of a rich perfume,
Romance was garnered in your smile
And touched my thoughts with beauty, while
The poor world wise with bitter guile
Outlived its chivalry.
You did not know — our lives were laid
So far apart — that thus I drew
The sunshine of my days from you,
That by your joy my own was weighed,
That thus my debts your sweetness paid,
And of my heart’s deep silence made
A lovely melody.
Agnes L. Storrie. Poems, J. W. Kettlewell, Sydney, 1909, pages 143-144