 | Poems of "Frank Forester" (Henry William Herbert) |  |
5
TO ***
We are not parted—no, though never moreThy cherished form may greet my watchful eye,
Nor thy soft voice speak welcome to mine ear
Sweeter than summer music. Seas may roll,
And realms unnumbered stretch their boundless width,
A wearisome gulf between. Long years of woe
May lag above us, with their icy weight
Freezing the healthful current of our lives.
Yea, Death himself, with blighting fingers cold,
May sunder us, not e'er to meet again
On this side immortality. Thy frame
May gently moulder to its natural dust,
Dewed by the tear-drops of lamenting friends;
Mine rot unhonored in a foreign soil,
Without a stone to mark the exile's head,
Or blessed ministry of holy church
To smooth the sinner's passage to his God.
Yet so we are not parted! Souls like ours,
Knit by so strong a harmony of love,
With hopes, fears, sorrows, sympathies the same,
Still commune with each other, twain in one
Indissolubly joined, and yet more near,
When dies the clay that dims the immortal spark.
| Poems of "Frank Forester" (Henry William Herbert) | |