 | Poems |  |
162
VI.
I turn from things behind;They lose their savour! now that on the core
Of Life content I feed, I fling the rind,
That once looked fair, aside for evermore,
For I have pierced beneath it. Since my eyes
Have looked upon thy face, to all things wise,
And pure, and noble, they have clearer grown;
But careless are they to the vanities
That once could hold them chained. I stood alone
To watch the long procession that yestreen
Moved through our city stately to the flow
Of martial music; then I saw thee lean
From out a balcony, and all the show
Went by unmarked of me, as we had been
Alone beside the river winding slow;—
So doth this world's fair Pageant pass me by,
I see but thee! yet do not therefore grow
Unmindful of its goodly company:
I tracked those glittering ranks until they stayed
Within the square, and passing through the door
Of the great Minster, took within its shade
The sunshine after them; like One that prayed
In silence, seemed that multitude, before
So bright and jubilant, now only made
163
Doth soothe the sense with wide monotony
Of quiet waves unstirred. I saw thee kneel
Afar; the organ, as it were the Soul
Of many human souls, that did reveal
Their secrets, sighed, as on its stormy roll
It gathered them; my silent spirit drew
More close to those who prayed with me; I knew
That each of these still faces, where I see
No charm to bid me look again, doth make
The sunshine of some eye, and for its sake
The heavens and earth look fairer: each that here
Doth kneel, is loved of some, or hath been dear—
The treasure of some heart beneath the sod.
Oh, we are held unto the other near
When each is dear to one—and all to God!
| Poems | |