 | Poems |  |
137
REMEMBERING.
When I remember
The glow of that departed place
Where life beguiled its day of grace,
Far off through all these misty years,
Or through the dimmer haze of tears,
Forever green it seems to me;
Immortal blooms on every tree—
A land wherein the very snow,
Like falling flowers, came soft and slow;
No winter chill to crisp the air,
But Spring eternal everywhere.
Dear, vanished land! how fair to see
Those sad and lovely pastures be,
That I remember!
The glow of that departed place
Where life beguiled its day of grace,
Far off through all these misty years,
Or through the dimmer haze of tears,
Forever green it seems to me;
Immortal blooms on every tree—
A land wherein the very snow,
Like falling flowers, came soft and slow;
No winter chill to crisp the air,
But Spring eternal everywhere.
Dear, vanished land! how fair to see
Those sad and lovely pastures be,
That I remember!
When I remember
The little cluster of my kin,
Who stood those sunny fields within,
How fair they seem! how close they press,
Intent to serve, to love, to bless!
A little world, enough for me,
Whose kings I worshipped loyally:
Where are they? One is always here;
Her dark eyes shine with peace and cheer;
Through all the watches of the night
They gleam with love's divinest light.
“My child,” she says, “I love thee still;
I could not work thee wrong or ill;
I wait and watch for some sweet day
To bring thy wearied soul away.”
I wake, and know that she is dead;
Ah, mother-love! to heaven fled—
That I remember.
The little cluster of my kin,
Who stood those sunny fields within,
How fair they seem! how close they press,
Intent to serve, to love, to bless!
A little world, enough for me,
Whose kings I worshipped loyally:
Where are they? One is always here;
Her dark eyes shine with peace and cheer;
138
They gleam with love's divinest light.
“My child,” she says, “I love thee still;
I could not work thee wrong or ill;
I wait and watch for some sweet day
To bring thy wearied soul away.”
I wake, and know that she is dead;
Ah, mother-love! to heaven fled—
That I remember.
When I remember
The friends I had so long ago,
Whose friendly faces still I know;
Whose faithful love has proved its power,
And rallied round my darkest hour;
Who closer to my soul have stood
Than closest ties of kindred blood;
The blossoms that have grown to fruit,
The acorn with the oak-tree's root,
I feel how strong my life has grown,
Although its pillow were a stone,
And thank His mercy who has sent
These angels through the firmament,
More dear a thousand-fold to-day
Than in their first and fresh array,
That I remember.
The friends I had so long ago,
Whose friendly faces still I know;
Whose faithful love has proved its power,
And rallied round my darkest hour;
Who closer to my soul have stood
Than closest ties of kindred blood;
The blossoms that have grown to fruit,
The acorn with the oak-tree's root,
I feel how strong my life has grown,
Although its pillow were a stone,
And thank His mercy who has sent
These angels through the firmament,
More dear a thousand-fold to-day
Than in their first and fresh array,
That I remember.
When I remember
The hunger after righteousness,
The hope all evil to redress,
The wishes deeper than the sea,
The heart that shrank from misery;
The doubt, and weakness, and dismay,
That clogged that heart from day to day;
I know the faith that storms have tried,
The courage born of broken pride,
The patience that can trust and wait,
Unawed by cruelty and hate;
The home that holds me safe at length,
The love that clasps with tenderer strength,
The hope that rests in God at last,
A thousand times exceed the past,
With all its futile hopes and dreams,
Its land of radiant fields and streams,
Its faith betrayed, its vain delight,
As far as noon exceeds the night.
Nor know I now one poor regret
For all that land so lovely yet,
That I remember.
The hunger after righteousness,
The hope all evil to redress,
139
The heart that shrank from misery;
The doubt, and weakness, and dismay,
That clogged that heart from day to day;
I know the faith that storms have tried,
The courage born of broken pride,
The patience that can trust and wait,
Unawed by cruelty and hate;
The home that holds me safe at length,
The love that clasps with tenderer strength,
The hope that rests in God at last,
A thousand times exceed the past,
With all its futile hopes and dreams,
Its land of radiant fields and streams,
Its faith betrayed, its vain delight,
As far as noon exceeds the night.
Nor know I now one poor regret
For all that land so lovely yet,
That I remember.
| Poems | |