Will Carleton

One And Two

William McKendree Carleton (October 21, 1845 – December 18, 1912) was an American poet from Michigan.






I.
  If you to me be cold,
  Or I be false to you,
  The world will go on, I think,
  Just as it used to do;
  The clouds will flirt with the moon,
  The sun will kiss the sea,
  The wind to the trees will whisper,
  And laugh at you and me;
  But the sun will not shine so bright,
  The clouds will not seem so white,
  To one, as they will to two;
  So I think you had better be kind,
  And I had best be true,
  And let the old love go on,
  Just as it used to do.

II.
  If the whole of a page be read,
  If a book be finished through,
  Still the world may read on, I think,
  Just as it used to do;
  For other lovers will con
  The pages that we have passed,
  And the treacherous gold of the binding
  Will glitter unto the last.
  But lids have a lonely look,
  And one may not read the book--
  It opens only to two;
  So I think you had better be kind,
  And I had best be true,
  And let the reading go on,
  Just as it used to do.

III.
  If we who have sailed together
  Flit out of each other's view,
  The world will sail on, I think,
  Just as it used to do;
  And we may reckon by stars
  That flash from different skies,
  And another of love's pirates
  May capture my lost prize;
  But ships long time together
  Can better the tempest weather
  Than any other two;
  So I think you had better be kind,
  And I had best be true,
  That we together may sail,
  Just as we used to do.

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