The Poetical Works of Frances Ridley Havergal

My Own!
You won't expect to hear
As you have only just departed,
But I'll be better than you fear,
And write as soon as you have started.
It seems a long and tiresome day;
I'm merely writing, as you see,
Not that I've anyting to say,
But only that it comes from me.

I watched the carriage out of sight,
And then came back to do my work;
I could not set the stitches right,
And so for once the task I'll shirk;

334

I've put the children's frocks away
To write a line or two to thee,
Not that I've anything to say,
But only that it comes from me.

I hope the train will not be late,
And that it will not freeze or rain,
And oh! if you should have to wait,
Be sure you don't catch cold again.
I wish this moment on the way
To overtake you I could be!
Not that I've anything to say,
But only to be nearer thee.

'Tis six-and-twenty hours almost
Before I see you, as I've reckoned;
But you'll get this by early post,
And you'll be home before the second.
I'd like to sit and write all day
To Some One, if my hands were free,
Not that I've anything to say,
But only that it comes from me.

Though this is such a stupid letter,
With love and kisses 'tis impearled;
I know that you will like it better
Than all the poems in the world.
I trust that all is safe and well,
Although I am not there to see;
I've nothing else, my Own, to tell,
But only that this comes from me.

335

The Husband's Reply.

Five minutes all I have to spare,
But these, my Own, I give to you!
Your precious letter's lying there,
So full and fond, so dear and true.
I think you'll hardly hope to hear,
As I shall soon be home again,
But you'll get this at seven, dear,
I'm due at eight, and then—oh then!

A hurried word or two assures
That all is safe and well, my dove.
My notes are not so long as yours,
Though worth as much in golden love.
So where I've been, and whom I've seen,
And how, and why, and what, and when,
I'll tell you when we meet, my queen,
At eight o'clock,—and then—oh then!

Only for One.

I have a smile my friends to greet,
Hearty and pleasant for all I meet,
Hidden from none:
But I have a smile that they do not know,
Lit by a deeper, tenderer glow,
And I keep it bright in my heart below,
Only for one!

336

I have a song for every ear,
Leaving an echo to soothe and cheer
When it is done:
But I have a music of truer beat,
Not to be poured at the great world's feet,
Richer and softer and far more sweet,
Only for one!

I have a love for all who care
Aught of its warmth to claim, or share,
Free as the sun;
But I have a love which I do not hint,
Gold that is stamped with my soul's imprint,
A wealth of love, both mine and mint,
Only for one!

One for the Other.

Was it ‘only for one,’ dear, ‘only for one,’
That the smile, and the song, and the love should be?
Then a smile shall flash, and a song shall flow,
And a deep, deep love shall thrill and glow,
Only for thee, dear, only for thee!
For so shall it be,
One for the other—nevermore lonely,
One for the other—ever and only.

The blossoms that now at my feet you lay
Shall be golden fruit for you and me,
When spring and summer have passed away,
And softly falls the autumn day,

337

Like the close of a holy melody.
For so shall it be,
One for the other—nevermore lonely,
One for the other—ever and only.

Yes! one for the other, blessing and blessed,
In the strength of His gladness, calm and bright,
But with more of blessing and love for all,
The smile shall beam, and the song shall fall,
Touching the shadows around with light,—
Because it shall be
One for the other—nevermore lonely,
One for the other—ever and only!

Thinking together, or Gravitation.

Of what are you thinking now, dear,
Now that good-night is said,
Now that the children's eyes are shut,
And the stars shine out instead;
Now that the far church-clock sounds near,
For the world is all so still,
And the cottage twinkle has long gone out
On the slope of the fir-crowned hill?

Of what are you thinking now, dear?
Could a thought-flash reach me here,
The message would not surprise me,
But only strengthen and cheer.

338

For love has told it already,
That seer so bold and true!
I know you are thinking of me, dear,
For I am thinking of you.

I know you are thinking of me, dear,
For the whirl of the day hath ceased,
The circling force is spent at last,
And our spirits are released;
And heart to heart hath swiftly turned
After the lonely strife,
For each is the centre of each, dear,
By the law of our truest life.

We have but one other thought, dear,
In these quiet, restful hours,
And that is of Him whose love is twined
In a threefold cord with ours.
So you are thinking of me, dear,
And I am thinking of you,
And He is thinking of us both:
Is it not sweet and true?

There is Music by the River.

There is music by the river,
And music by the sea,
And music in the waterfall
That gusheth glad and free,

339

There is music in the brooklet
That singeth all alone,
There is music in the fountain
With its silver-tinkling tone.

But the music of thy spirit
Is sweeter far to me
Than the melody of rivers,
Or the anthems of the sea.
Why should I dwell in silence
When the music is so near
That may overflow my spirit
So full, so clear!
Oh! let me listen!

There is music in the forest,
A myriad-voicèd song;
And music on the mountains
As the great winds rush along:
There is music in the gladness
Of morning's merry light,
And in silence of the noontide,
And in hush of starry night.

But a deeper, holier music
Is the music of thy soul,
And I think the angels listen
As its starry echoes roll.
Why should I dwell in silence
When the music that is thine
May overflow my spirit
And blend—with mine!
Oh! let me listen!

340

‘The Shining Light, that shineth more and more unto the Perfect Day.’

[_]

Prov. iv. 18.

A year ago the gold light
Sweet morning made for me;
A tender and untold light,
Like music on the sea.
Light and music twining
In melodious glory,
A rare and radiant shining
On my changing story.

To-day the golden sunlight
Is full and broad and strong;
The glory of the One light
Must overflow in song;
Song that floweth ever,
Sweeter every day,
Song whose echoes never,
Never die away.

How shall the light be clearer
That is so bright to-day?
How shall the hope be dearer
That pours such joyous ray?
I am only waiting
For the answer golden,
What faith is antedating
Shall not be withholden.

341

Golden Land.

Far from home alone I wander
Over mountain and pathless wave,
But the fair land that shineth yonder
Claimeth the love that erst it gave
Golden Land, so far, so nearing!
Land of those who wait for me!
Ever brighter the vision cheering,
Glden Land, I haste to thee!

On my path a golden sunlight
Softly falls where'er I roam,
And I know it is the one light
Both of exile and of home.
Golden Land, so far, so near,
On my heart engraven clear,
Though I wander from strand to strand,
Dwells my heart in that Golden Land.

Twilight Voices.

(IN ILLNESS.)

What are the whispering voices
That awake at twilight fall?
Do they come from the golden sunset
With their haunting, haunting call?
They tell me of breezy spring-times,
And of dreamy summer eves,
And of snow-wreaths merrily shaken
From the shining ivy leaves.

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But the far-off treble changeth
To a tenor tone, and so
I know that the voices tell me
Only of long ago.
I hear you, I hear you,
In the gentle twilight fall
Come to me, come!
With your haunting, haunting call.

What are the tuneful voices
That awake at early dawn?
Do they come from the orient portals
Of the palace of the morn?
They tell of a Golden City
With pearl and jasper bright,
And of shining forms that beckon
From the pure and dazzling light.
Then a rush of far-off harpings
Blends with the voices clear,
And I know that the night is passing,
And I know that the day is near!
I hear you, I hear you,
Sweet voices of the dawn!
Come to me, come!
In the early, early morn.

University of Virginia Library

A Wife's Letter.