But yesterday we dared to say, “’Twere better you should walk this way Or that, dear child! Do thus or so; Older and wiser we, you know.” We gave you flowers and curled your hair, And brought new robes for you to wear.
To-day how far away thou art! In all thy life we have no part. Hast thou a want? We know it not; Utterly parted from our lot, The veriest stranger is to thee All those who loved thee best can be.
Deaf to our calls, our prayers, our cries, Thou dost not lift thy heavy eyes; Nor heed the tender words that flow From lips whose kisses thrilled thee so But yesterday! To-day in vain We wait for kisses back again.
To-day no awful mystery hid The dark and mazy past amid Is half so great as this that lies Beneath the lids of thy shut eyes, And in those frozen lips of stone, Impassive lips, that smile nor moan.
But yesterday with loving care We petted, praised thee, called thee fair; To-day, oppressed with awe, we stand Before that ring-unfettered hand, And scarcely dare to lift one tress In mute and reverent caress.
But yesterday with us. To-day Where thou art dwelling, who can say? In heaven? But where? Oh for some spell To make thy tongue this secret tell! To break the silence strange and deep, That thy sealed lips so closely keep!
LYRIC
FOR THE DEDICATION OF A MUSIC-HALL
No grand Cathedral’s vaulted space Where, through the “dim, religious light,” Gleam pictured saint and cross and crown, We consecrate with song to-night;
No stately temple lifting high Its dome against the starlit skies, Where lofty arch and glittering spire Like miracles of beauty rise.