Or art thou near us? There are those who say That but a breath divides our world from thine; A little cloud that may be blown away— A gossamer veil than spider’s web more fine.
Dost thou, a shadowy presence, linger near The happy paths that thou wert wont to tread, Where woods were still, and shining brooks ran clear, And waving boughs arched greenly overhead?
Oh! be thou far or near, it is the same! From thee there floats no message thro’ the air; No glad “All’s well” comes to us in thy name That we the joy of thy new life may share!
MY BIRTHDAY
My birthday!—“How many years ago? Twenty or thirty?” Don’t ask me! “Forty or fifty?”—How can I tell? I do not remember my birth, you see!
It is hearsay evidence—nothing more! Once on a time, the legends say, A girl was born—and that girl was I. How can I vouch for the truth, I pray?
I know I am here, but when I came Let some one wiser than I am tell! Did this sweet flower you plucked for me Know when its bud began to swell?
How old am I? You ought to know Without any telling of mine, my dear! For when I came to this happy earth Were you not waiting for me here?
A dark-eyed boy on the northern hills, Chasing the hours with flying feet, Did you not know your wife was born, By a subtile prescience, faint yet sweet?
Did never a breath from the south-land come, With sunshine laden and rare perfume, To lift your hair with a soft caress, And waken your heart to richer bloom?