 | Fantasy and Passion |  |
57
FIDELITAS.
Dost thou dream I forget thee, O star that hast fled
From a heaven where its light lingers yet?
Since we parted with pangs, to thy soul hast thou said
That my love would forego and forget?
From a heaven where its light lingers yet?
Since we parted with pangs, to thy soul hast thou said
That my love would forego and forget?
Do not fear; it is love that, though prisoned apart
From thine own for long ages, would be
As the shell flung ashore that yet hides in its heart
All the sounds of the songs of the sea!
From thine own for long ages, would be
As the shell flung ashore that yet hides in its heart
All the sounds of the songs of the sea!
I shall live out my life, I shall draw daily breath,
Shall endure, yet in such wounded wise
As the stag that goes wearily, smitten with death,
To the pool that it drinks of and dies!
Shall endure, yet in such wounded wise
As the stag that goes wearily, smitten with death,
To the pool that it drinks of and dies!
'Tis in vain that the years, though they labor, shall bring
For my anguish Nepenthean wine.
As the sword to the scabbard, the plume to the wing,
O my love, was thy life unto mine!
For my anguish Nepenthean wine.
As the sword to the scabbard, the plume to the wing,
O my love, was thy life unto mine!
And with infinite sorrow my spirit has seen
How a gulf never sounded nor crost,
In its blackness of darkness yawns awful between
The words “I have loved”—“I have lost.”
How a gulf never sounded nor crost,
In its blackness of darkness yawns awful between
The words “I have loved”—“I have lost.”
58
But as bells in the belfries and spires of the past,
Shall my dreams of thee changelessly chime,
And the rock of my passion shall wear at the last
Not a scar from the tempest of time!
Shall my dreams of thee changelessly chime,
And the rock of my passion shall wear at the last
Not a scar from the tempest of time!
When my heart to the bourne of no comfort may turn
That can lighten its loss or repair,
Shall the star of its longing not lovelier burn
In the deepening night of despair?
That can lighten its loss or repair,
Shall the star of its longing not lovelier burn
In the deepening night of despair?
And for love to the cross of remembrance to cling
Is not more in its effort with me
Than for leafage to mistily glimmer in Spring
On the wreck of a storm-ruined tree!
Is not more in its effort with me
Than for leafage to mistily glimmer in Spring
On the wreck of a storm-ruined tree!
I shall foster no fear that my soul may forget,
While in reaches of innermost thought
The immutable marble of deathless regret
To an image of thee has been wrought!
While in reaches of innermost thought
The immutable marble of deathless regret
To an image of thee has been wrought!
And if ever that image doth seem to uprise
Through a gloom whose vague fitfulness dims,
'Tis from tears dropping down out of memory's eyes
On the lamp that she watches and trims!
Through a gloom whose vague fitfulness dims,
'Tis from tears dropping down out of memory's eyes
On the lamp that she watches and trims!
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