 | Poems |  |
TWO.
How airily she fled away,
As if she threw a kiss to me!
“Farewell! farewell! I had my day;
To other lands I flee.”
Alas! what did she bring to me?
A fervent heart, an eager faith,
And love's abundant charity.
She came with them, with her they fled.
Beneath her feet, where roses glowed,
And virgin lilies purely showed,
To-day the purple flowers of death
Send forth a faint and cheerless breath,
With here and there a violet
Beneath the briers set.
With open hands she came to me;
She brought her guerdons with a smile:
Was never smile more sweet to see,
More full of loveliness and guile;
For, oh! how soon she fled away,
And took the gifts I thought would stay!
For loss or pain she had no ruth;
For trust she gave no living truth.
Good-by, sweet Youth!
As if she threw a kiss to me!
“Farewell! farewell! I had my day;
To other lands I flee.”
Alas! what did she bring to me?
A fervent heart, an eager faith,
And love's abundant charity.
She came with them, with her they fled.
Beneath her feet, where roses glowed,
And virgin lilies purely showed,
To-day the purple flowers of death
Send forth a faint and cheerless breath,
With here and there a violet
Beneath the briers set.
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She brought her guerdons with a smile:
Was never smile more sweet to see,
More full of loveliness and guile;
For, oh! how soon she fled away,
And took the gifts I thought would stay!
For loss or pain she had no ruth;
For trust she gave no living truth.
Good-by, sweet Youth!
Now here I have a canoness
With reliquary and with cross,
With dusky veil and sober dress,
And sad sweet eyes that tell of loss.
The almond blossoms on her head,
Her step is still, her voice is calm;
No rose upon her cheek is shed,
But in her hand she bears its balm.
Oh, friend, dear friend, I know thy gifts:
The chastened heart, the humbled will;
Faith that to heaven the soul uplifts,
Though conscious of earth's failure still;
Love that was dead, but lives again,
No more for one alone, but all,
As harvests spring from scanty grain
Beneath the rains of Fall;
Hope that no longer nestles here,
But heavenward spreads her stately wing,
And learns in that high atmosphere
Fruition's song to sing;
Hearts that I trusted and found true,
More precious that they count so few;
And home so near I almost see
The shining of its majesty.
Dear promise, kept for life's last page,
All this I owe thee, Age!
With reliquary and with cross,
With dusky veil and sober dress,
And sad sweet eyes that tell of loss.
The almond blossoms on her head,
Her step is still, her voice is calm;
No rose upon her cheek is shed,
But in her hand she bears its balm.
Oh, friend, dear friend, I know thy gifts:
The chastened heart, the humbled will;
Faith that to heaven the soul uplifts,
Though conscious of earth's failure still;
Love that was dead, but lives again,
No more for one alone, but all,
As harvests spring from scanty grain
Beneath the rains of Fall;
Hope that no longer nestles here,
But heavenward spreads her stately wing,
And learns in that high atmosphere
Fruition's song to sing;
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More precious that they count so few;
And home so near I almost see
The shining of its majesty.
Dear promise, kept for life's last page,
All this I owe thee, Age!
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