 | A collection of poems by Ernest Radford |  |
41
THE POET'S LEGACY.
“Through busiest street and loneliest glen
Are felt the flashes of his pen;
Deep in the general heart of men
His power survives.”
(Wordsworth on Burns.)
Are felt the flashes of his pen;
Deep in the general heart of men
His power survives.”
(Wordsworth on Burns.)
Beloved and loving stood we two,
Remote, unseen, unheard;
The seal that lovers use was set
On the unspoken word;
Remote, unseen, unheard;
The seal that lovers use was set
On the unspoken word;
And in the silence Time maintained
While two hearts beat as one
Was proof sufficient, failing speech,
That he was loved or none.
While two hearts beat as one
Was proof sufficient, failing speech,
That he was loved or none.
“To-morrow then—to-morrow then—
Meet we again,” said he.
The path I trod that evening
Seemed, oh, so strange to me!
Meet we again,” said he.
The path I trod that evening
Seemed, oh, so strange to me!
My heart was beating, beating,
Of I know not what afraid,
Beneath the silent stars I fell
Upon my knees, and prayed:—
Of I know not what afraid,
Beneath the silent stars I fell
Upon my knees, and prayed:—
“Oh! thou thrice blessed, bride of God,
To whom the Christ was born;
Thou who throughout the ages past
The woman's crown hast worn—
To whom the Christ was born;
Thou who throughout the ages past
The woman's crown hast worn—
42
The peaceful inward sense that has
Its dwelling in thy frame;
If that be love, what bodeth this?
Oh, what should be its name?”
Its dwelling in thy frame;
If that be love, what bodeth this?
Oh, what should be its name?”
Then spake in pity she who has
The niche beside the road:—
“If love of equal worth has been,
My child, on thee bestowed,
The niche beside the road:—
“If love of equal worth has been,
My child, on thee bestowed,
Thou too art blessèd; she who speaks
Has lived, and loved, and prayed.”
Then lips with kisses burning were
On feet of marble laid.
Has lived, and loved, and prayed.”
Then lips with kisses burning were
On feet of marble laid.
Oh, that was life! The image now
That he is dead and gone,
Would have me read the riddle
Of the river speeding on.
That he is dead and gone,
Would have me read the riddle
Of the river speeding on.
'Tis not the dead, the living,
That this, ah! this, must bear;
Too late to be forgiving,
Too soon to join him there.
That this, ah! this, must bear;
Too late to be forgiving,
Too soon to join him there.
“More sinned against than sinning”—
“No fault of his the pain”—
“The poet's guerdon winning”—
While tears fall like rain.
“No fault of his the pain”—
“The poet's guerdon winning”—
While tears fall like rain.
| A collection of poems by Ernest Radford | |