 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
THE ONE QUESTION.
This time last year we parted,—she and I.
“The day of meeting soon will come,” we said;
And hand in hand, unto the last we stayed:
Then, when to love no more might love reply,
Starless to both became the star-lit sky.
And now, that longer parting has been made,
And she, released from love, in sleep is laid,
I stand where she stood, having said, “Good-by.”
“The day of meeting soon will come,” we said;
And hand in hand, unto the last we stayed:
Then, when to love no more might love reply,
Starless to both became the star-lit sky.
And now, that longer parting has been made,
And she, released from love, in sleep is laid,
I stand where she stood, having said, “Good-by.”
And as I come through paths she knew so well,
The winds cry out to me, “Where is she now?
What has Love done with her? Speak thou, and tell.”
“Where is she?” moans the streamlet in its flow.
“Where, where is all thou lovest?” fills the air;
And I, O God! I can but echo, “Where?”
The winds cry out to me, “Where is she now?
What has Love done with her? Speak thou, and tell.”
“Where is she?” moans the streamlet in its flow.
“Where, where is all thou lovest?” fills the air;
And I, O God! I can but echo, “Where?”
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |