University of Virginia Library

OF the terrible question of appearances,
Of the doubts, the uncertainties after all,
That may-be reliance and hope are but speculations
     after all,
That may-be identity beyond the grave is a beautiful
     fable only,
May-be the things I perceive—the animals, plants,
     men, hills, shining and flowing waters,
The skies of day and night—colors, densities, forms
     —May-be these are, (as doubtless they are,) only
     apparitions, and the real something has yet to be
     known,
(How often they dart out of themselves, as if to con-
     found me and mock me!
How often I think neither I know, nor any man
     knows, aught of them;)
May-be they only seem to me what they are, (as
     doubtless they indeed but seem,) as from my
     present point of view—And might prove, (as of
     course they would,) naught of what they appear,
     or naught any how, from entirely changed points
     of view;
To me, these, and the like of these, are curiously
     answered by my lovers, my dear friends;
When he whom I love travels with me, or sits a long
     while holding me by the hand,
When the subtle air, the impalpable, the sense that
     words and reason hold not, surround us and
     pervade us,
Then I am charged with untold and untellable wis-
     dom—I am silent—I require nothing further,
I cannot answer the question of appearances, or that
     of identity beyond the grave,
But I walk or sit indifferent—I am satisfied,
He ahold of my hand has completely satisfied me.