 | The Marriage Before Death, And Other Poems |  |
139
A MEETING: AFTER FIVE YEARS.
After long years, long sighing and tears,
By the sound of the sea we met:
And the dear hand leapt to the heart that had slept,
And the passionate eyes were wet.
By the sound of the sea we met:
And the dear hand leapt to the heart that had slept,
And the passionate eyes were wet.
The sweet mouth thrilled, the pure eyes filled,
And the swift hand sought the side:
Oh, triumph for me, thus shaken to see
My lady, my spirit-bride!
And the swift hand sought the side:
Oh, triumph for me, thus shaken to see
My lady, my spirit-bride!
Friends were near, and a husband and fear—
Not a word, not a whisper was said:
But I laughed in my heart as she rose to depart,
And her last long love-look sped.
Not a word, not a whisper was said:
But I laughed in my heart as she rose to depart,
And her last long love-look sped.
I laughed—for I knew that my lady was true,
That the years between were nought;
Now the passionate face of my queen in her grace,
Had again to my gaze been brought.
That the years between were nought;
Now the passionate face of my queen in her grace,
Had again to my gaze been brought.
Sad was the look, and the sweet lips shook,
And the splendour of youth was gone:
But clearly could I the spirit descry—
Pale, suffering, sweet, it shone.
And the splendour of youth was gone:
But clearly could I the spirit descry—
Pale, suffering, sweet, it shone.
140
Clearly the spirit, mine own to inherit,
Flamed forth from the face once more:
And behind, as of old, the white waves rolled,
And the sea-mist swept the shore.
Flamed forth from the face once more:
And behind, as of old, the white waves rolled,
And the sea-mist swept the shore.
Again by the sea she smiled on me,
And again I held her fast,
And the uttermost bliss of a soft soul-kiss
Was ours: it clung and it past.
And again I held her fast,
And the uttermost bliss of a soft soul-kiss
Was ours: it clung and it past.
But utterly sweet in her swift retreat
Was my lady—she must be so;—
For sweetness is hers, and its gift she confers,
And God's heart in her heart I know.
Was my lady—she must be so;—
For sweetness is hers, and its gift she confers,
And God's heart in her heart I know.
| The Marriage Before Death, And Other Poems | |