 | The poems of Celia Thaxter |  |
50
PRESAGE
If, some day, I should seek those eyes
So gentle now,—and find the strange,
Pale shadow of a coming change,
To chill me with a sad surprise;
So gentle now,—and find the strange,
Pale shadow of a coming change,
To chill me with a sad surprise;
Shouldst thou recall what thou hast given,
And turn me slowly cold and dumb,
And thou thyself again become
Remote as any star in heaven;
And turn me slowly cold and dumb,
And thou thyself again become
Remote as any star in heaven;
Would the sky ever seem again
Perfectly clear? Would the serene,
Sweet face of nature steal between
This grief and me, to dull its pain?
Perfectly clear? Would the serene,
Sweet face of nature steal between
This grief and me, to dull its pain?
Oh not for many a weary day
Would sorrow soften to regret,
And many a sun would rise and set
Ere I, with cheerful heart, could say:
Would sorrow soften to regret,
And many a sun would rise and set
Ere I, with cheerful heart, could say:
“All undeserved it came. To-day,
God takes it back again, because
Too beautiful a thing it was
For such as I to keep for aye.”
God takes it back again, because
Too beautiful a thing it was
For such as I to keep for aye.”
51
And ever, through the coming years,
My star, remote in happy skies,
Would seem more heavenly fair through eyes
Yet tremulous with unfallen tears.
My star, remote in happy skies,
Would seem more heavenly fair through eyes
Yet tremulous with unfallen tears.
| The poems of Celia Thaxter | |