 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
119
A YEAR AGO.
A year ago, belovèd! Who shall say
What smiles and tears were ours a year ago?
Last year my heart was fain its love to show;
Then had I songs to sing, and prayers to pray,
And dreams to dream, in dawns and twilights gray,—
Dreams of love's heaven, that I came to know
For passionate realities; and, lo!
Realities turn back to dreams to-day.
What smiles and tears were ours a year ago?
Last year my heart was fain its love to show;
Then had I songs to sing, and prayers to pray,
And dreams to dream, in dawns and twilights gray,—
Dreams of love's heaven, that I came to know
For passionate realities; and, lo!
Realities turn back to dreams to-day.
O thou, my love, my saviour, living yet!
I stand with folded hands before the gates,—
Dark doors, whereof Death hath alone the key.
So, with strained ear to iron gratings set,
His term of bondage spent, some prisoner waits
The word that, long delayed, shall make him free.
I stand with folded hands before the gates,—
Dark doors, whereof Death hath alone the key.
So, with strained ear to iron gratings set,
His term of bondage spent, some prisoner waits
The word that, long delayed, shall make him free.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |