Poems By Richard Chenevix Trench: New ed |
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TO --- |
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249
TO ---
Dear sister, thou hast wandered forth with me,
From patient vigils needed now no more,
A watcher most unwillingly set free
From love's long service, which at last is o'er,—
From patient vigils needed now no more,
A watcher most unwillingly set free
From love's long service, which at last is o'er,—
From chambers, where the candles of the night
Far into day, unquenched, unheeded, burn,
While unregarded comes the dreary light,
The unnoted breaking of the dreary morn—
Far into day, unquenched, unheeded, burn,
While unregarded comes the dreary light,
The unnoted breaking of the dreary morn—
Who hast come forth to let the breeze of May
Blow on thy cheek amid another scene,
Fair sights have we beholden day by day,
While on this Norman soil our feet have been.
Blow on thy cheek amid another scene,
Fair sights have we beholden day by day,
While on this Norman soil our feet have been.
'Mid clustering shafts and pinnacles and towers
Of many a tall cathedral have we stood,
Have sailed up lovely streams for pleasant hours,
And there and there have found our spirits' food.
Of many a tall cathedral have we stood,
Have sailed up lovely streams for pleasant hours,
And there and there have found our spirits' food.
Yet still this thought would in our hearts arise,
When aught of rarer beauty met our sight,
This thought of sadness,—they are shut, those eyes
To which this vision had brought keen delight;
When aught of rarer beauty met our sight,
This thought of sadness,—they are shut, those eyes
To which this vision had brought keen delight;
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To which all lovely things were welcome still,
As footprints of a Beauty whither turned
Her spirit alway; and of which her fill
To drink for ever, fervently she yearned.
As footprints of a Beauty whither turned
Her spirit alway; and of which her fill
To drink for ever, fervently she yearned.
This was our grief; be it our joy as well,—
That they are closed and she no longer sees
Our glimpses faint which of that Beauty tell,
To open on the eternal fount of these.
That they are closed and she no longer sees
Our glimpses faint which of that Beauty tell,
To open on the eternal fount of these.
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