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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Too Late

By Dinah Maria Mulock Craik (1826–1887)

COULD ye come back to me, Douglas, Douglas,

In the old likeness that I knew,

I would be so faithful, so loving, Douglas,

Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

Never a scornful word should grieve ye,

I’d smile on ye sweet as the angels do:

Sweet as your smile on me shone ever,

Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.

Oh to call back the days that are not!

My eyes were blinded, your words were few:

Do you know the truth now, up in heaven,

Douglas, Douglas, tender and true?

I never was worthy of you, Douglas;

Not half worthy the like of you;

Now all men beside seem to me like shadows—

I love you, Douglas, tender and true.

Stretch out your hand to me, Douglas, Douglas,

Drop forgiveness from heaven like dew,

As I lay my heart on your dead heart, Douglas,

Douglas, Douglas, tender and true.