 | Poems in Love's looking glass |  |
153
HOPE
I shall not see him yet, I know, for still
Between us lies an unsurmounted hill,
And tho' I hurry and pant, his pace is slow;
Yet shall I see his sunny face and hair
(For he will surely come to meet me) there
In the last valley somewhere, that I know.
Between us lies an unsurmounted hill,
And tho' I hurry and pant, his pace is slow;
Yet shall I see his sunny face and hair
(For he will surely come to meet me) there
In the last valley somewhere, that I know.
What tho' he pauses in the pleasant wheat
To watch the lark mount skyward, do my feet
Pause or my eyes desert the path they climb?
What tho' he strays where pleasant voices call
Of thrush or dove or woodland waterfall?
My ears hear nothing till that meeting-time.
To watch the lark mount skyward, do my feet
Pause or my eyes desert the path they climb?
What tho' he strays where pleasant voices call
Of thrush or dove or woodland waterfall?
My ears hear nothing till that meeting-time.
Will my strength last me?—did not some one say
The way was ever easier all the way,
The road less rough, the barren waste less bare?
The briars are long since past, the stones cut less,
This hill is not so steep, let me but press
Across that peak, I know he will be there.
The way was ever easier all the way,
The road less rough, the barren waste less bare?
The briars are long since past, the stones cut less,
This hill is not so steep, let me but press
Across that peak, I know he will be there.
| Poems in Love's looking glass | |