 | Robert Louis Stevenson: Collected Poems |  |
VII
[The relic taken, what avails the shrine?]
The relic taken, what avails the shrine?
The locket, pictureless? O heart of mine,
Art thou not less than that,
Still warm, a vacant nest where love once sat.
The locket, pictureless? O heart of mine,
Art thou not less than that,
Still warm, a vacant nest where love once sat.
Her image nestled closer at my heart
Than cherished memories, healed every smart,
And warmed it more than wine
Or the full summer sun in noon-day shine.
Than cherished memories, healed every smart,
And warmed it more than wine
Or the full summer sun in noon-day shine.
64
This was the little weather-gleam that lit
The cloudy promontories. The real charm was it
That gilded hills and woods
And walked beside me through the solitudes.
The cloudy promontories. The real charm was it
That gilded hills and woods
And walked beside me through the solitudes.
That sun is set. My heart is widowed now
Of that companion-thought. Alone I plough
The seas of life, and trace
A separate furrow far from her and grace.
Of that companion-thought. Alone I plough
The seas of life, and trace
A separate furrow far from her and grace.
| Robert Louis Stevenson: Collected Poems | |