 | Idyls of Norway and other poems |  |
141
YES, MY OLD SELF IS DEAD; AND IT IS WELL.
VII.
Yes, my old self is dead; and it is well;—I knew, as thou, he had no right to be;
And light his death was, for he knew not thee.
And thrilling into life by some strange spell
I stood new-born and wondering; nor could tell
Aught of what had been. Through a mist outspread
I saw the by-gone years lie cold and dead,
And the bright future where with thee I dwell,
A happy Delos rising from the sea.
Dim seems my past and strange, and all the earth
A pale and melancholy pageantry,
Until the shining moment of thy birth.
Thy life from out this age of toil and gloom
Sprang, like a flower that blossoms on a tomb.
| Idyls of Norway and other poems | |