Auf Weidersehen

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SUMMER

The little gate was reached at last,
  Half hid in lilacs down the lane;
She pushed it wide, and, as she past,
A wistful look she backward cast,
  And said,--'_Auf wiedersehen!_'

With hand on latch, a vision white
  Lingered reluctant, and again
Half doubting if she did aright,
Soft as the dews that fell that night,
  She said,--'_Auf wiedersehen!_'

The lamp's clear gleam flits up the stair;
  I linger in delicious pain;
Ah, in that chamber, whose rich air
To breathe in thought I scarcely dare,
  Thinks she,--'_Auf wiedersehen?_' ...

'Tis thirteen years; once more I press
  The turf that silences the lane;
I hear the rustle of her dress,
I smell the lilacs, and--ah, yes,
  I hear '_Auf wiedersehen!_'

Sweet piece of bashful maiden art!
  The English words had seemed too fain,
But these--they drew us heart to heart,
Yet held us tenderly apart;
  She said, '_Auf wiedersehen!_'

© James Russell Lowell