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 | The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston |  |
269
A SONG OF MEETING.
I look down days and nights.
And see Love's beckoning lights
Shine from his fairest heights.
And see Love's beckoning lights
Shine from his fairest heights.
On winds that come and go
I hear, now loud, now low,
The song my heart loves so.
I hear, now loud, now low,
The song my heart loves so.
I know the way shall end,—
The weary way I wend;
I know that God shall send
The weary way I wend;
I know that God shall send
A great, propitious day,
When she I love shall say,
“Rest here, with Love to stay.”
When she I love shall say,
“Rest here, with Love to stay.”
As ships to harbor bear,
Through seas and deeps of air,
Through darkness and despair,
Through seas and deeps of air,
Through darkness and despair,
I bring to Love's high goal,
To his supreme control,
My body and my soul.
To his supreme control,
My body and my soul.
O joy of day begun,
O joy of day just done,
Lessening the days by one,
O joy of day just done,
Lessening the days by one,
Until her lips meet mine,
Until we drink the wine
Of Love's most hidden vine!
Until we drink the wine
Of Love's most hidden vine!
Oh, in Love's land with me
Will my belovèd be?
Shall our eyes live to see
Will my belovèd be?
Shall our eyes live to see
270
Those dim and mystic ways
Haunted by many a face
Of lovers from old days?
Haunted by many a face
Of lovers from old days?
O Love, those ways are sweet,—
Their stillness so complete
We hear our own hearts beat.
Their stillness so complete
We hear our own hearts beat.
And there forever blows
Of roses, the one rose
Whose leaves for us unclose.
Of roses, the one rose
Whose leaves for us unclose.
Love, from thy distant place,
Lift up thy loveliest face
To greet the passing days,—
Lift up thy loveliest face
To greet the passing days,—
Each day a wave that sweeps
Back to the sunless deeps
Where Life forgotten sleeps.
Back to the sunless deeps
Where Life forgotten sleeps.
O thou for whose love's sake
New souls in men might wake,
And harp of sweet song break
New souls in men might wake,
And harp of sweet song break
To know itself so slight,—
Forgive Song's failing flight,
Bow, Love, from thy fair height!
Forgive Song's failing flight,
Bow, Love, from thy fair height!
| The Collected Poems of Philip Bourke Marston | |