This is to-day, a golden summer's day,
And yet -; and yet
My vengeful soul will not forget
The past, forever now forgot, you say.
From that half height where I had sadly climbed,
I stretched my hand,
I lone in all that land,
Down there, where, helpless, you were limed.
Our fingers clasped, and dragging me a pace,
You struggled up.
It is a bitter Cup,
That now for naught, you turn away your face.
I shall remember this for aye and aye.
Whate'er may come,
Althought my lips are dumb,
My spirit holds you to that yesterday.