Three velvet white azalea stars
Glowed through the purple dusk,
Across the rippled mere, the wind
Carried the wild, sweet musk;
A band was playing “The Roses” waltz,
Our windows were open wide,—
We had a garret and love, sweetheart,
And nothing else beside.
Into the gold of your hair I twined
The white azalea stars,
The moonlight trembled along our walls,
Checkered by lattice bars;
Our arms were the only warmth we asked,
Our kisses the only wine,—
In that sweet summer when I was yours,
And you, sweetheart, were mine.
We thought our garret was hung with silk,
Our ceiling with gold was traced,
And the cotton gown you wore, dear heart.
Turned to velvet about your waist;
The moonlight drops were opals, made
For your milk-white throat and ears,
And pure red rubies were your lips,
And glistening pearls your tears.
Oh! never a Paderewski played
Sweet as that simple band!
And never a pulse beat time so well
As the heart-pulse in your hand!
And never God made a soul so white,
With a passion so near divine! . . . .
Alas! For the summer when I was yours,
And you, sweetheart, were mine!
Yes, I have years, and gold, and fame,
And all that men prize high,—
I’d give them all to be poor again
In that room close to the sky!
For life has given me naught so good—
Nothing so near divine—
As that lost summer when I was yours,
And you, sweetheart, were mine.
“When I Was Yours and You Were Mine” printed in an unidentified publication in 1893 with revisions in Higginson’s handwriting. Clipping courtesy of the Ella Higginson Papers, Center for Pacific Northwest Studies, Heritage Resources, Western Washington University, Bellingham Washington.