 | Under Cross and Crescent |  |
74
NOT E'EN THE TENDEREST HEART
“Not e'en the tenderest heart, and next our own,
Knows half the reasons why we smile or sigh.” —
Keble, The Christian Year.
Knows half the reasons why we smile or sigh.” —
Keble, The Christian Year.
I sometimes dream a dream of you—
A dream wherefrom I wake in tears,—
In which I seem to wander through
Lone forest shades and frozen spheres,
Or chambers, stretching far to view,
Dim with the dust of bygone years.
A dream wherefrom I wake in tears,—
In which I seem to wander through
Lone forest shades and frozen spheres,
Or chambers, stretching far to view,
Dim with the dust of bygone years.
And ever, ever, as I go,
I seek you—in the forest gloom,
In those chill ice-bound realms of snow,
In ev'ry empty echoing room,
Wherein the air strikes faint, as though
From flow'rs that wither on a tomb.
I seek you—in the forest gloom,
In those chill ice-bound realms of snow,
In ev'ry empty echoing room,
Wherein the air strikes faint, as though
From flow'rs that wither on a tomb.
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I seek you, but I find you not,
Although, to ev'ry quicken'd sense
A secret consciousness, begot
Of some mysterious influence,
Tells me you linger near the spot,
Or lately have departed thence,
Although, to ev'ry quicken'd sense
A secret consciousness, begot
Of some mysterious influence,
Tells me you linger near the spot,
Or lately have departed thence,
Whilst all as surely comes the pain,
The pain that sharpens to despair,
Of knowing that my quest is vain,
That all is empty, void, and bare,
And that my spirit ne'er again
Can hope to find you anywhere.
The pain that sharpens to despair,
Of knowing that my quest is vain,
That all is empty, void, and bare,
And that my spirit ne'er again
Can hope to find you anywhere.
I wake, and lo! 'twas but a dream!
Your much-loved presence gives the lie
To phantom fears which almost seem
More dread than stern reality;
And yet it is as though some gleam
Of light was shed to guide me by.
Your much-loved presence gives the lie
To phantom fears which almost seem
More dread than stern reality;
And yet it is as though some gleam
Of light was shed to guide me by.
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For, as when in that forest lone
I seek the one I love the most,
And find all trace of him is gone,
Or in those dreary realms of frost,
Or those dim halls, whence life has flown,
I wander lonely as a ghost—
I seek the one I love the most,
And find all trace of him is gone,
Or in those dreary realms of frost,
Or those dim halls, whence life has flown,
I wander lonely as a ghost—
In this, the life of ev'ry day,
Your spirit oft eludes me too,
Leaving me lonely by the way
Or fleeing e'en as I pursue;
Whilst even in your arms, I may
Not clasp that which is really you;
Your spirit oft eludes me too,
Leaving me lonely by the way
Or fleeing e'en as I pursue;
Whilst even in your arms, I may
Not clasp that which is really you;
A self-created self, whose mind
Should lead and follow, brave and bear,
Know how to conquer and be kind,
To rule and yield, condemn and spare,
And in my soul must read behind
All feigning, what is written there.
Should lead and follow, brave and bear,
Know how to conquer and be kind,
To rule and yield, condemn and spare,
And in my soul must read behind
All feigning, what is written there.
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Yet can the subtlest human brain
Dependent on the throb and thrill
Of one poor heart, that never twain
Can come to be, for good or ill,
Be ever sure to ascertain
The working of another will?
Dependent on the throb and thrill
Of one poor heart, that never twain
Can come to be, for good or ill,
Be ever sure to ascertain
The working of another will?
So something in my life is vain,
And something in my dream is true;
And something, to my loss and pain,
In you there is, which is not you;
And this to you could but be plain
If we were one that now are two!
And something in my dream is true;
And something, to my loss and pain,
In you there is, which is not you;
And this to you could but be plain
If we were one that now are two!
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