 | Sonnets of sorrow and triumph |  |
13
FORECAST
17
THAT DAY
O Heart of mine, through all these perfect days
Whether of white Decembers or green Mays,
There glides a dark thought like a creeping snake,
Or like a black thread which by some mistake
Life has strung through the pearls of happy years—
A thought which borders all my joy with tears.
Whether of white Decembers or green Mays,
There glides a dark thought like a creeping snake,
Or like a black thread which by some mistake
Life has strung through the pearls of happy years—
A thought which borders all my joy with tears.
Some day, some day or you or I, alone,
Must look upon the scenes we two have known,
Must tread the self-same paths we two have trod,
And cry in vain to one who is with God,
To lean down from the silent realms and say,
“I love you,” in the old familiar way.
Must look upon the scenes we two have known,
Must tread the self-same paths we two have trod,
And cry in vain to one who is with God,
To lean down from the silent realms and say,
“I love you,” in the old familiar way.
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Some day, and each day, beauteous though it be,
Brings closer that dread hour to you or me.
Fleet-footed joy who hurries time along
Is yet a secret foe who does us wrong.
Speeding us swiftly, though he well doth know
Of yonder pathway where but one may go.
Brings closer that dread hour to you or me.
Fleet-footed joy who hurries time along
Is yet a secret foe who does us wrong.
Speeding us swiftly, though he well doth know
Of yonder pathway where but one may go.
Ay, one will go. To go is sweet, I wis,
Yet God must needs invent some special bliss
To make his Paradise seem very dear
To one who goes, and leaves the other here.
To sever souls so bound by love and time
For any one but God, would be a crime.
Yet God must needs invent some special bliss
To make his Paradise seem very dear
To one who goes, and leaves the other here.
To sever souls so bound by love and time
For any one but God, would be a crime.
Yet death will entertain his own, I think.
To one who stays, life gives the gall to drink.
To one who stays, or be it you or me,
There waits the Garden of Gethsemane.
Oh, dark, inevitable and awful day,
When one of us will go, and one must stay.
To one who stays, life gives the gall to drink.
To one who stays, or be it you or me,
There waits the Garden of Gethsemane.
Oh, dark, inevitable and awful day,
When one of us will go, and one must stay.
October 13th, 1898.
19
HOW WILL IT BE?
How will it be when one of us alone
Goes on that strange, last journey of the soul,
That voyage on which no comradeship is known?
Will our dear sea sing in the old sweet tone,
Though one sits stricken where its billows roll?
Will whisperings of love be backward blown?
Goes on that strange, last journey of the soul,
That voyage on which no comradeship is known?
Will our dear sea sing in the old sweet tone,
Though one sits stricken where its billows roll?
Will whisperings of love be backward blown?
When our united lives are wrenched apart,
And day no more means sweet companionship;
When fervent night, and lovely languorous dawn,
Are only memories to one sad heart,
And but in dreams fond kisses burn the lip,
Dear God, how can this same fair world move on?
And day no more means sweet companionship;
When fervent night, and lovely languorous dawn,
Are only memories to one sad heart,
And but in dreams fond kisses burn the lip,
Dear God, how can this same fair world move on?
February 14th, 1903.
20
THE LAND BETWEEN
Between the little Here and larger Yonder,
There is a realm (or so one day I read),
Where faithful spirits, love-enchained, may wander,
Till some remembering soul from earth has fled;
Then reunited, they go forth afar
From sphere to sphere, where wondrous angels are.
There is a realm (or so one day I read),
Where faithful spirits, love-enchained, may wander,
Till some remembering soul from earth has fled;
Then reunited, they go forth afar
From sphere to sphere, where wondrous angels are.
Not many spirits in that realm are waiting,
Not many pause upon its shores to rest;
For only Love, intense and unabating,
Can hold them from the longer higher quest.
And after grief has wept itself to sleep,
Few hearts on earth their vital memories keep.
Not many pause upon its shores to rest;
For only Love, intense and unabating,
Can hold them from the longer higher quest.
And after grief has wept itself to sleep,
Few hearts on earth their vital memories keep.
Should I pass on across the mystic border,
Let thy love link me to that pallid land.
I would not seek the heavens of finer order
Until thy barque had left the coarser strand.
How desolate such journeyings would be
Though straight to Him, were they not shared by thee!
Let thy love link me to that pallid land.
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Until thy barque had left the coarser strand.
How desolate such journeyings would be
Though straight to Him, were they not shared by thee!
Wert thou first called (dear God, how could I bear it!)
I should enchain thee with my love, I know.
Not great enough am I, to free thy spirit
From all these olden ties, and bid thee go.
Nor would a soul unselfish as thine own
Forget so soon, and speed to Heaven alone.
I should enchain thee with my love, I know.
Not great enough am I, to free thy spirit
From all these olden ties, and bid thee go.
Nor would a soul unselfish as thine own
Forget so soon, and speed to Heaven alone.
On earth we find no joy in ways diverging;
How could we find it in the worlds unseen?
I know old memories in my bosom surging
Would keep thee waiting in that Land between,
Until, together, side by side we trod
A path of stars, in our great search for God.
How could we find it in the worlds unseen?
I know old memories in my bosom surging
Would keep thee waiting in that Land between,
Until, together, side by side we trod
A path of stars, in our great search for God.
July 5th, 1907.
22
INTERLUDE
The days grow shorter, the nights grow longer,
The headstones thicken along the way;
And life grows sadder but love grows stronger
For those who walk with us, day by day.
The headstones thicken along the way;
And life grows sadder but love grows stronger
For those who walk with us, day by day.
The tear comes quicker, the laugh comes slower,
The courage is lesser to do and dare;
And the tide of joy in the heart runs lower,
And seldom covers the reefs of care.
The courage is lesser to do and dare;
And the tide of joy in the heart runs lower,
And seldom covers the reefs of care.
But all true things in the world seem truer,
And the better things of the earth seem best;
And friends are dearer as friends are fewer,
And love is all as our sun dips west.
And the better things of the earth seem best;
And friends are dearer as friends are fewer,
And love is all as our sun dips west.
Then let us clasp hands as we walk together,
And let us speak softly, in love's sweet tone;
For no man knows, on the morrow, whether
We two pass by, or but one alone.
And let us speak softly, in love's sweet tone;
For no man knows, on the morrow, whether
We two pass by, or but one alone.
November, 1909.
| Sonnets of sorrow and triumph | |