 | Western windows and other poems |  |
78
PARTING.
We clasp our hands: we turn to go,
Our footsteps echoing years between;
We meet again: we hardly know
These ghosts of loved ones long unseen.
Our footsteps echoing years between;
We meet again: we hardly know
These ghosts of loved ones long unseen.
We clasp our hands: we turn and go,
Far travellers with strange hours and years;
The face, the form, the voice we know,
They come not back from time and tears.
Far travellers with strange hours and years;
The face, the form, the voice we know,
They come not back from time and tears.
We clasp our hands in loving trust;
We send our voices o'er the wave:
No hand can reach us—from the dust;
No voice can find us—in the grave.
We send our voices o'er the wave:
No hand can reach us—from the dust;
No voice can find us—in the grave.
| Western windows and other poems | |