 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
CONSOLATION.
I front the Present with the Past, and say:
“Which reckons more, the anguish or the bliss;
The joy that was, or agony that is;
The path I trod when life was glad with May,
Or this gray sky, and lone, unlovely way;
The deep delight of many a long, close kiss,
The pressure of warm, clinging arms, or this
Fierce fire of thirst, that wastes me night and day?”
“Which reckons more, the anguish or the bliss;
The joy that was, or agony that is;
The path I trod when life was glad with May,
Or this gray sky, and lone, unlovely way;
The deep delight of many a long, close kiss,
The pressure of warm, clinging arms, or this
Fierce fire of thirst, that wastes me night and day?”
I think of thee, lost Love, and testify
The present pain cheap price for the dear past:
Though Fate through life all comfort should deny,
And after death my loneliness still last,
'T is better to have held thee once so fast,
Than die without thy love, as others die.
The present pain cheap price for the dear past:
Though Fate through life all comfort should deny,
And after death my loneliness still last,
'T is better to have held thee once so fast,
Than die without thy love, as others die.
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |