 | Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman |  |
218
[XX. O hard endeavour, to blend in with these]
O hard endeavour, to blend in with these—Deep shadings of the past, a deeper grief;
Or blur with stranger woes a wound so chief,—
Though the great world turn slow with agonies!
What though the forest wind-flowers fell and died
And Gertrude sleeps at Gulielma's side?
They have their tears, nor turn to us their eyes:
But we pursue our dead with groans, and cries,
And bitter reclamations, to the term
Of undiscerning darkness and the worm;
Then sit in silence down, and brooding dwell,
Through the slow years, on all we loved, and tell
Each tone, each look of love, each syllable,
With lips that work, with eyes that overwell!
| Poems by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman | |