 | Poems by Elizabeth Akers (Florence Percy) |  |
165
IN VAIN.
Where the turf is broken and brown,
Darling, under this peaceful pine,
Since thou hast laid thy burden down,
Entering into the rest divine,
How, beloved, shall I carry mine?
Darling, under this peaceful pine,
Since thou hast laid thy burden down,
Entering into the rest divine,
How, beloved, shall I carry mine?
How shall I carry this heavy heart,
Laden sorely with grief and fears?
Since our paths are so far apart,
All my strength is dissolved in tears,—
How shall I bear it through all the years?
Laden sorely with grief and fears?
Since our paths are so far apart,
All my strength is dissolved in tears,—
How shall I bear it through all the years?
How shall I carry this load of care?
Lightened no more by thy word or smile,
O, the burden is hard to bear!
Longer stretches each weary mile,—
Darling, rest me a little while!
Lightened no more by thy word or smile,
O, the burden is hard to bear!
Longer stretches each weary mile,—
Darling, rest me a little while!
Into thy silence, so strange and vast,
Comes there never a thought of me?
Tell me, tell me, does Love outlast
All life's sorrowful mystery?
O to know what the truth may be!
Comes there never a thought of me?
Tell me, tell me, does Love outlast
All life's sorrowful mystery?
O to know what the truth may be!
166
O, how often thou saidst to me,
In the beautiful time gone by,
Never could any other be
Half so precious and dear as I,—
Never another beneath the sky!
In the beautiful time gone by,
Never could any other be
Half so precious and dear as I,—
Never another beneath the sky!
Hast thou forgotten it now, dear child?
Hast thou flown to some happy star,
Leaving me, in my doubtings wild,
Unremembered, remote, afar,
Nothing dearer than others are?
Hast thou flown to some happy star,
Leaving me, in my doubtings wild,
Unremembered, remote, afar,
Nothing dearer than others are?
Now I reach for thy tender hand,
Now I pine for thy loving heart,
Vainly, vainly: and yet we stand
Only the width of a grave apart;—
Speak, beloved, if so near thou art!
Now I pine for thy loving heart,
Vainly, vainly: and yet we stand
Only the width of a grave apart;—
Speak, beloved, if so near thou art!
Ah, dear silent! in vain these tears
Water thy grave with their bitter rain;
Never hereafter in all the years
Wilt thou answer my call again;—
Never, never,—in vain, in vain!
Water thy grave with their bitter rain;
Never hereafter in all the years
Wilt thou answer my call again;—
Never, never,—in vain, in vain!
| Poems by Elizabeth Akers (Florence Percy) | |