 | The Poems of A. C. Benson |  |
281
IN ABSENCE
Ah! if I only knew
If it were well with you,
'Twere well with me.
You in your silent dreams
Rest, where the southern streams
Fall to the sea.
If it were well with you,
'Twere well with me.
You in your silent dreams
Rest, where the southern streams
Fall to the sea.
Forest and meadow lands
Disjoin our willing hands,
Sever our hearts,
Still, over stream and hill,
Beckons my spirit till
Daylight departs.
Disjoin our willing hands,
Sever our hearts,
Still, over stream and hill,
Beckons my spirit till
Daylight departs.
We for so brief a space
Run our divided race,
Seems it not hard
That from these sharp delights
Of common days and nights
We grieve debarred?
Run our divided race,
Seems it not hard
That from these sharp delights
Of common days and nights
We grieve debarred?
We, like twin stars that run,
With each the other's sun,
Fiery and fleet,
Poised in one spacious night,
And bathed in mutual light
Still softly greet.
With each the other's sun,
Fiery and fleet,
282
And bathed in mutual light
Still softly greet.
Nay, but the sages say
That on some sudden day
Of sound and flame,
The spell that half divides
Breaks, and the airy tides
With huge acclaim,
That on some sudden day
Of sound and flame,
The spell that half divides
Breaks, and the airy tides
With huge acclaim,
Thunder, and inwards roll,
And soul to sundered soul
Must swiftly run:—
They, in their wild unrest
Leap to each other's breast,
And both are one.
And soul to sundered soul
Must swiftly run:—
They, in their wild unrest
Leap to each other's breast,
And both are one.
| The Poems of A. C. Benson | |