 | Poems |  |
148
EVEN TO THE END.
Love, when the day is wellnigh spent,
When the long shadows, dark and chill,
Steal slowly on till they are blent
Into one shade, and the dim sight
Waits for that deeper gloom of night,
When all is cold, and dead, and still;
When the long shadows, dark and chill,
Steal slowly on till they are blent
Into one shade, and the dim sight
Waits for that deeper gloom of night,
When all is cold, and dead, and still;
When the last dying purple gleam
Melts into darkness, while above
The pale moon, hanging like a dream,
Grows into life, and star by star
From its eternal world afar,
Comes out in grandeur, not in love,
Melts into darkness, while above
The pale moon, hanging like a dream,
Grows into life, and star by star
From its eternal world afar,
Comes out in grandeur, not in love,
For warmth and life are fading fast,—
Dearest! wilt thou be with me then
To that great moment, first and last,
When darkness ends the dying day,
And the loosed spirit is away
Into wide worlds beyond its ken.
Dearest! wilt thou be with me then
To that great moment, first and last,
When darkness ends the dying day,
And the loosed spirit is away
Into wide worlds beyond its ken.
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Wilt thou be with me then as now?—
For if that end be agony,
Thou must be near to cool my brow,
And lull its pain with thy soft kiss:
And Dearest! if the end be bliss,
I shall have sorer need of thee:
For if that end be agony,
Thou must be near to cool my brow,
And lull its pain with thy soft kiss:
And Dearest! if the end be bliss,
I shall have sorer need of thee:
For what is bliss where thou art not?
But if the cruel mists should come
And thy sweet face should be forgot
By vacant eyes,—yet do not go,
But watch the heart's faint ebb and flow,
Till it has grown for ever dumb.
But if the cruel mists should come
And thy sweet face should be forgot
By vacant eyes,—yet do not go,
But watch the heart's faint ebb and flow,
Till it has grown for ever dumb.
For there might come one moment's grace,
When, as the dying eyes reposed,
Suddenly they would know thy face
And be lit up with endless love,
And even the dying lips might move
To breathe one kiss before they closed.
When, as the dying eyes reposed,
Suddenly they would know thy face
And be lit up with endless love,
And even the dying lips might move
To breathe one kiss before they closed.
So thou wilt sit beside my bed,
And take my wasted hand in thine,
And say soft words, or lean thine head—
Where the great eyes have still their light,
And the long hair is brown and bright—
Upon the pillow, close to mine.
And take my wasted hand in thine,
And say soft words, or lean thine head—
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And the long hair is brown and bright—
Upon the pillow, close to mine.
While near and nearer grows the end,
And the damp chill mists gather fast,
And roll and mingle, till they send
That moment of intensest night—
That darkness of Eternal Light—
And—God has come to me at last.
And the damp chill mists gather fast,
And roll and mingle, till they send
That moment of intensest night—
That darkness of Eternal Light—
And—God has come to me at last.
Dearest! I often think that there
Just through that darkness thou wilt be:
Though a long after-life of care
Be thine—yet Time itself is dead,
And all thy years for me are fled
In that one instant's agony.
Just through that darkness thou wilt be:
Though a long after-life of care
Be thine—yet Time itself is dead,
And all thy years for me are fled
In that one instant's agony.
I know not—but if this be so,
The tears of sorrowing are thine,
Only for me they must not flow—
Love! as I love thee, I would pray
That Heaven would take thee first away,
And all the pain of life be mine.
The tears of sorrowing are thine,
Only for me they must not flow—
Love! as I love thee, I would pray
That Heaven would take thee first away,
And all the pain of life be mine.
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