 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
COULD IT BUT BE!
Could the sheer weight of suffering be laid
Upon my heart, — if I for both might bear
The weariness, the horror, the despair,
The thoughts whereby the eyes become afraid
To close themselves in sleep; by grief dismayed
Watch the slow hours go by, while sobbing there
With broken wing comes back each outcast prayer
The soul in its wild agony has prayed:
Upon my heart, — if I for both might bear
The weariness, the horror, the despair,
The thoughts whereby the eyes become afraid
To close themselves in sleep; by grief dismayed
Watch the slow hours go by, while sobbing there
With broken wing comes back each outcast prayer
The soul in its wild agony has prayed:
If so I might take all the pain, and see
You walking happy with forgetful soul,
My image burned from out your memory,
Your dear feet hastening to some shining goal,—
Then, surely, I could find grief ecstasy;
I could defy despair, your heart made whole.
You walking happy with forgetful soul,
My image burned from out your memory,
Your dear feet hastening to some shining goal,—
Then, surely, I could find grief ecstasy;
I could defy despair, your heart made whole.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |