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

Too Late

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.