The Prophecy of Westminster, And other Poems In Honour of Henry Edward, Cardinal Manning. By Harriet Eleanor Hamilton King |
 |
Postscript.
|
 | The Prophecy of Westminster, And other Poems |  |
61
Postscript.
I was too late, too late, my Cardinal,
To do thee any service, save such small
Delightful service as a child might do;
And so have missed my life's most precious due.
Mine! for God knoweth it was not my heart,
Nor fault thereof, that kept us so apart;
But grievous falsehood, and a wrong unkind
Done to an innocent and duteous mind.
Therefore, I was not of that company
Of those who lived and laboured, following thee.
And now forgive me, if I do thee wrong,
By mourning thee too sadly, and too long.
Thy Son and thy Beloved holds thy state,
Thy diocese is not disconsolate;
The heavy yoke another's shoulders wear,
Which thou until thy dying day didst bear:
And now befits the season that we gave
Rather than tears, our flowers, upon thy grave.
Yet this is not for me, since I must bow
To God, and what His wisdom doth allow;
Who hath not left me any strength of limb
Wherewith to walk a pilgrim, serving Him;
In this fair earth whereon her Maker trod,
And wrought the healing miracles of God,
This earth whereon He bade us sow and reap,
Extend His vineyard, feed and fold His sheep.
Alas, I may not follow thee at all
In any works of mercy corporal;
(For thou wast merciful, and if thy will
Had had its way, I should not suffer still;)
And from my failing hands, day after day
The work, though not the burden, drops away.
Happy are they who serve, and know God's grace,—
He hath appointed me a lower place;
The place of those that suffer.—Therefore I
Cut off from solace of activity,
Bound to perpetual servitude of pain,
Take my allotted station in thy train,
And must through life thy Sorrower remain.
To do thee any service, save such small
Delightful service as a child might do;
And so have missed my life's most precious due.
Mine! for God knoweth it was not my heart,
Nor fault thereof, that kept us so apart;
But grievous falsehood, and a wrong unkind
Done to an innocent and duteous mind.
Therefore, I was not of that company
Of those who lived and laboured, following thee.
And now forgive me, if I do thee wrong,
By mourning thee too sadly, and too long.
Thy Son and thy Beloved holds thy state,
Thy diocese is not disconsolate;
The heavy yoke another's shoulders wear,
Which thou until thy dying day didst bear:
62
Rather than tears, our flowers, upon thy grave.
Yet this is not for me, since I must bow
To God, and what His wisdom doth allow;
Who hath not left me any strength of limb
Wherewith to walk a pilgrim, serving Him;
In this fair earth whereon her Maker trod,
And wrought the healing miracles of God,
This earth whereon He bade us sow and reap,
Extend His vineyard, feed and fold His sheep.
Alas, I may not follow thee at all
In any works of mercy corporal;
(For thou wast merciful, and if thy will
Had had its way, I should not suffer still;)
And from my failing hands, day after day
The work, though not the burden, drops away.
Happy are they who serve, and know God's grace,—
He hath appointed me a lower place;
The place of those that suffer.—Therefore I
Cut off from solace of activity,
Bound to perpetual servitude of pain,
63
And must through life thy Sorrower remain.
I bring this little gift memorial:—
Pray for me, pray for me, my Cardinal,
That God's deliverance even on me may fall!
Pray for me, pray for me, my Cardinal,
That God's deliverance even on me may fall!
| The Prophecy of Westminster, And other Poems | |