The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth With Sixteen Illustrations. By Philip Gilbert Hamerton |
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UNFORGOTTEN. |
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 | The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth |  |
233
UNFORGOTTEN.
Old friend, it grieved me to remember you,—
For, as the inmates of a darkened house
Conceal the portrait of the newly dead,
So had I veiled your image in my heart
Through dread of grief renewed by memory.
But now, sweet image, I uncurtain thee;
And I desire thee, beautiful as life,
To look upon me in my daily work.
Be with me in the future, thou unchanged
By any harsh vicissitude of time.
Be with me in the beauty of thy youth,
As still and silent as the miniature
A lover wears on his divided heart,
Whose loveliness is never marked by age,
Whose eyes will not grow dim on ivory.
For, as the inmates of a darkened house
Conceal the portrait of the newly dead,
So had I veiled your image in my heart
Through dread of grief renewed by memory.
But now, sweet image, I uncurtain thee;
And I desire thee, beautiful as life,
To look upon me in my daily work.
Be with me in the future, thou unchanged
By any harsh vicissitude of time.
Be with me in the beauty of thy youth,
As still and silent as the miniature
A lover wears on his divided heart,
Whose loveliness is never marked by age,
Whose eyes will not grow dim on ivory.
I shared the womb with none, yet we were twins;
My mother kissed her firstborn and then died;
Yet we were brothers—age had made us twins,
And we were boys together. Though our tastes,
Our creeds, and our pursuits, were not the same,
Still in the languor of his failing health,
The calmness of affection undisturbed,
Unshaken by the certainty of death,
There was sublimity in unison
With my exalted welcoming of change
That fears no future—trusts eternity;
And having witnessed just enough to know
That God is good and merciful, confides
The rest to Him. He had a feeble hold
On life; and often in our intercourse,
His careless grasp and my unbounded trust
Seemed to our love a common sentiment.
I hoped he might recover when we parted.
I left him dreaming we might meet again.
He tried to smile at some forced jest of mine,
And so we parted. Then his weariness
Sought rest upon his pillow, and desired
Profounder sleep than any Life affords;
And soon they laid him, white and beautiful,
Within a coffin which affection lined
And pillowed with the luxury of death.
234
Yet we were brothers—age had made us twins,
And we were boys together. Though our tastes,
Our creeds, and our pursuits, were not the same,
Still in the languor of his failing health,
The calmness of affection undisturbed,
Unshaken by the certainty of death,
There was sublimity in unison
With my exalted welcoming of change
That fears no future—trusts eternity;
And having witnessed just enough to know
That God is good and merciful, confides
The rest to Him. He had a feeble hold
On life; and often in our intercourse,
His careless grasp and my unbounded trust
Seemed to our love a common sentiment.
I hoped he might recover when we parted.
I left him dreaming we might meet again.
He tried to smile at some forced jest of mine,
And so we parted. Then his weariness
Sought rest upon his pillow, and desired
Profounder sleep than any Life affords;
And soon they laid him, white and beautiful,
Within a coffin which affection lined
And pillowed with the luxury of death.
He was not guilty of ingratitude,
And yet to his perception all the joys
That he had known did not outweigh his pain.
And thence he did conceive without despair
Grief that his life was useless to the world,
And strange regret that he was ever born.
Perhaps the peaceful shore of Acheron
Is but that silent land from which at birth
We sailed on troubled waters, to return
After a toilsome day like fishermen;
Or, to escape the tempests of our noon,
Retreat like him before the day is done.
And yet to his perception all the joys
235
And thence he did conceive without despair
Grief that his life was useless to the world,
And strange regret that he was ever born.
Perhaps the peaceful shore of Acheron
Is but that silent land from which at birth
We sailed on troubled waters, to return
After a toilsome day like fishermen;
Or, to escape the tempests of our noon,
Retreat like him before the day is done.
| The Isles of Loch Awe and Other Poems of my Youth | |