 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
BETWEEN JOY AND SORROW.
Between joy and sorrow,
As 'twixt day and morrow,
I lay for a space;
And I heard, so lying,
My old Grief sighing
From her far-off place.
As 'twixt day and morrow,
I lay for a space;
And I heard, so lying,
My old Grief sighing
From her far-off place.
I said, “Thou art over,
And where dreams hover
Thou hoverest now;
In the land of thy dwelling
What waters are welling,
And blossoms what bough?
And where dreams hover
Thou hoverest now;
In the land of thy dwelling
What waters are welling,
And blossoms what bough?
216
“Old tears are its rivers;
The wind that there quivers
Is breath of old sighs;
Wreck-strewn are the shores there;
And sunset endures there
Through infinite skies.
The wind that there quivers
Is breath of old sighs;
Wreck-strewn are the shores there;
And sunset endures there
Through infinite skies.
“But all there is quiet;
There no wave makes riot
On the waif-cumber'd coasts,
Where thou movest banished,
But not quite vanished, —
A ghost among ghosts.”
There no wave makes riot
On the waif-cumber'd coasts,
Where thou movest banished,
But not quite vanished, —
A ghost among ghosts.”
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |