Poems By the author of "The Patience of Hope" [i.e. Dora Greenwell] |
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PARTING. |
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PARTING.
“They that my trust must grow to, dwell not here,
They are with all my other comforts,
Far hence.”
They are with all my other comforts,
Far hence.”
Oh! speak of me, my friends! when I am gone
Bind with my name some old familiar strain,
That it may bear a greeting on its tone
From One, heart-woven with its linkèd chain.
Bind with my name some old familiar strain,
That it may bear a greeting on its tone
From One, heart-woven with its linkèd chain.
For I will speak of you! your names will rise
When the full heart would of its treasure tell,
And I will seek in stranger looks and eyes
To trace the aspects I have loved so well.
When the full heart would of its treasure tell,
And I will seek in stranger looks and eyes
To trace the aspects I have loved so well.
Oh! think of me, my friends! when I am gone
Let not my memory lightly pass away,
With pleasant songs forgotten—or as one
A stranger-guest, abiding but a day.
Let not my memory lightly pass away,
With pleasant songs forgotten—or as one
A stranger-guest, abiding but a day.
For I will think of you! a purer ray
Will gild Life's journey, flung from times of old,
And Thought will reckon o'er, when far away,
Their gentle memories—its hoarded gold.
Will gild Life's journey, flung from times of old,
And Thought will reckon o'er, when far away,
Their gentle memories—its hoarded gold.
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Oh! dream of me, my friends! when I am gone,
Then be your happy slumbers lightly stirred
By tender shadows from the distance thrown,
By echoes sweet of some remembered word.
Then be your happy slumbers lightly stirred
By tender shadows from the distance thrown,
By echoes sweet of some remembered word.
For on my visions haunting forms will rise,
And I will seek in sleep a clasping hand,
And I shall look within those much-loved eyes,
Once more, within the pleasant dreaming-land!
And I will seek in sleep a clasping hand,
And I shall look within those much-loved eyes,
Once more, within the pleasant dreaming-land!
Oh! pray for me, my friends! when I am gone
Still with your voices let my name arise,
Where once my accents mingled in the tone
Of your sweet hymns and twilight harmonies.
Still with your voices let my name arise,
Where once my accents mingled in the tone
Of your sweet hymns and twilight harmonies.
For I will pray for you! my spirit lone
Will seek the language that its kindred share;
Yes! there, beloved friends! when I am gone
It will be mine, dear friends, to meet you there!
Will seek the language that its kindred share;
Yes! there, beloved friends! when I am gone
It will be mine, dear friends, to meet you there!
| Poems | |