Nay, but I fancy somehow, year by year
The hard road waxing easier to my feet;
Nay, but I fancy as the seasons fleet
I shall grow ever dearer to my dear.
Hope is so strong that it has conquered fear;
Love follows, crowned and glad for fear’s defeat.
Down the long future I behold us, sweet,
Pass, and grow ever dearer and more near;
Pass and go onward into that mild land
Where the blond harvests slumber all the noon,
And the pale sky bends downward to the sea;
Pass, and go forward, ever hand in hand,
Till all the plain be quickened with the moon,
And the lit windows beckon o’er the lea.
Public-domain source text
Nay, but I Fancy Somehow, Year by Year
by Robert Louis Stevenson
From Standard Ebooks · standardebooks/robert-louis-stevenson_poetry
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