 | The Poetical Works of (Richard Monckton Milnes) Lord Houghton |  |
83
ONE-SIDED TROTH.
It is not for what He would be to me now,
If he still were here, that I mourn him so:
It is for the thought of a broken vow,
And for what he was to me long ago.
If he still were here, that I mourn him so:
It is for the thought of a broken vow,
And for what he was to me long ago.
Strange, while he lived and moved upon earth,
Though I would not, and could not, have seen him again,
His being to me had an infinite worth,
And the void of his loss is an infinite pain.
Though I would not, and could not, have seen him again,
His being to me had an infinite worth,
And the void of his loss is an infinite pain.
I had but to utter his name, and my youth
Rose up in my soul, and my blood grew warm;
And I hardly remembered the broken truth,
And I wholly remembered the ancient charm.
Rose up in my soul, and my blood grew warm;
And I hardly remembered the broken truth,
And I wholly remembered the ancient charm.
I watched the' unfolding scenes of his life,
From' the lonely retreat where my heart reposed;
'Twas a magical drama—a fabulous strife;
Now' the curtain has fallen, the volume is closed.
From' the lonely retreat where my heart reposed;
'Twas a magical drama—a fabulous strife;
Now' the curtain has fallen, the volume is closed.
The sense of my very self grows dim,
With nothing but Self either here or beyond;
That Self which would have been lost in him,
Had he only died ere he broke the bond.
With nothing but Self either here or beyond;
That Self which would have been lost in him,
Had he only died ere he broke the bond.
1860.
| The Poetical Works of (Richard Monckton Milnes) Lord Houghton | |