 | Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr |  |
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'Tis the old unanswered question! Since the stars together sung,
In the glory of the morning, when the earth was fair and young,
In the glory of the morning, when the earth was fair and young,
Man hath asked it o'er and over, of the heavens so far and high,
And from out the mystic silence never voice hath made reply!
And from out the mystic silence never voice hath made reply!
Yet again to-night I ask it, though I know, O friend of mine,
There will come, to all my asking, never answering voice of thine.
There will come, to all my asking, never answering voice of thine.
Ah! how many times the grasses have grown green above thy grave,
And how many times above it have we heard the cold winds rave!
And how many times above it have we heard the cold winds rave!
Thou hast solved the eternal problem that the ages hold in fee;
Thou dost know what we but dream of; where we marvel, thou dost see.
Thou dost know what we but dream of; where we marvel, thou dost see.
What is truth, and what is fable; what the prophets saw who trod
In their rapt, ecstatic visions up the holy mount of God!
In their rapt, ecstatic visions up the holy mount of God!
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Not of these high themes I question—but, O friend, I fain would know
How beyond the silent river all the long years come and go!
How beyond the silent river all the long years come and go!
Where they are, our well-belovèd, who have vanished from our sight,
As the stars fade out of heaven at the dawning of the light;
As the stars fade out of heaven at the dawning of the light;
How they live and how they love there, in the “somewhere” of our dreams;
In the “city lying four-square” by the everlasting streams!
In the “city lying four-square” by the everlasting streams!
Oh, the mystery of being! Which is better, life or death?
Thou hast tried them both, O comrade, yet thy voice ne'er answereth!
Thou hast tried them both, O comrade, yet thy voice ne'er answereth!
Hast thou grown as grow the angels? Doth thy spirit still aspire
As the flame that soareth upward, mounting higher still, and higher?
As the flame that soareth upward, mounting higher still, and higher?
In the flush of early manhood all thy earthly days were done;
Short thy struggle and endeavor ere the peace of heaven was won.
Short thy struggle and endeavor ere the peace of heaven was won.
But for us who stayed behind thee—oh! our hands are worn with toil,
And upon our souls, it may be, are the stains of earthly moil.
And upon our souls, it may be, are the stains of earthly moil.
Hast thou kept the lofty beauty and the glory of thy youth?
Dost thou see our temples whitening, smiling softly in thy ruth?
Dost thou see our temples whitening, smiling softly in thy ruth?
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But for us who bear the burdens that you dropped so long ago,
All the cares you have forgotten, and the pains you missed, we know.
All the cares you have forgotten, and the pains you missed, we know.
Yet—the question still remaineth! Which is better, death or life?
The not doing, or the doing? Joy of calm, or joy of strife?
The not doing, or the doing? Joy of calm, or joy of strife?
Which is better—to be saved from temptation and from sin,
Or to wrestle with the dragon and the glorious fight to win?
Or to wrestle with the dragon and the glorious fight to win?
Ah! we know not, but God knoweth! All resolves itself to this—
That He gave to us the warfare, and to thee the heavenly bliss.
That He gave to us the warfare, and to thee the heavenly bliss.
It was best for thee to go hence in the morning of the day;
Till the evening shadows lengthen it is best for us to stay!
Till the evening shadows lengthen it is best for us to stay!
| Poems by Julia C. R. Dorr | |