University of Virginia Library


227

XXXV. THE IMPOSSIBILITY.

Ere many years are o'er—when, it may be,
We shall be almost strangers to each other”—
I mark not what doth follow; for there flee
Thoughts toward my spirit which poor eyesight smother
And prostrate outward sense to that within.
We never can be strangers: in our being
Each unto each is an eternal presence,
That mingles with us in all grief, or pleasance,
Breathes in our worship, sins in all our sin,
Beats in our heart, and sees in all our seeing!
And what though death come, like a cloud, between us,
And in the dust of graves our warm veins lie?
This but concerns the veil which here doth screen us
From the soul-filling light of God's own eye.