 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
91
THE SHADOW OF THE SWORD
Oh, if we are dissevered, you and I,
Some sad, implacable, and far-off day,—
You on the kindly earth designed to stay,
I somewhere in the unsubstantial sky.
Some sad, implacable, and far-off day,—
You on the kindly earth designed to stay,
I somewhere in the unsubstantial sky.
I will be patient in the silent world,
Trace all its sombre capes and valleys dim,
Importune of the brisk-eyed cherubim
Where first your spirit-wings must be unfurled.
Trace all its sombre capes and valleys dim,
Importune of the brisk-eyed cherubim
Where first your spirit-wings must be unfurled.
But if within the vast bewildering throng
Of all the souls of all who ever died,
We miss the meeting, why we will be true;
I think it will not seem so very long—
For you will search for me, as I for you—
When I shall turn and see you at my side.
Of all the souls of all who ever died,
We miss the meeting, why we will be true;
I think it will not seem so very long—
For you will search for me, as I for you—
When I shall turn and see you at my side.
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |