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 | Idyls of Norway and other poems |  |
142
IF I SHOULD LOSE THEE, DARLING, AND BEHOLD.
VIII.
If I should lose thee, darling, and beholdNo more thy pallid brow, thy gentle eyes,—
This still unvanquished thought in wondrous guise
Returns to haunt me. On a cloud of gold
Amid the shining vastness of the spheres
I saw thee standing, while with helpless tears
I clung unto thy feet. The huge globe rolled
With strident noises onward, and the bright
And void, compassionless eternity
Beat with its deepening vistas on my sight;
When, lo! my hands wherewith I clung to thee
Grew weak, and with a speed no eye could trace
I sank through all the barren realms of space.
| Idyls of Norway and other poems | |