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35
A VALENTINE TO HEAVEN.
This poem was read at a “Valentine Breakfast,” in New York. Among the many that were presented there, it was mentioned as the only sad one.
And yet, the fact was excused, and kind words came from all parts of the spacious hall of feasting: for it was known that the author had very recently sustained one of the most terrible losses in the world, and there were not a few present, who knew by experience what that meant.
I know not how these lines to send,Dear soul that took the starward flight—
And yet our Past a hope doth lend
That thou canst read me as I write.
And if not so, thou yet wilt know
These whispers that are thine and mine:
For God hath ways to make it so—
And thou shalt be my valentine.
But if by some good messenger
This word must seek thy cherished name,
Thy heart, I hope, will yet infer
Wherefrom the earthly message came:
Some little ways of thought or phrase—
Some hidden thrill 'twixt line and line,
That we two knew in olden days—
Will tell who wrote the valentine.
36
That stately Heaven can check thy glee,
Or bar me from the comrade-cheer
That made the earth like Heaven to me!
For e'en amid thy toil to rid
Of pain and sin our suff'ring race,
Oft came the merry laugh unbid,
That never lost its girlhood-grace.
So while the silver jest goes round,
And while the air gives gold of mirth,
I feel thy heart may yet be found
Among the merriments of earth.
Heaven were a task, could I not bask
Within that merry glance of thine:
And so, 'twixt smile and tear, I ask
Thee, Dear, to be my Valentine!
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