The face that I said farewell to,
Pillowed a flower on flowers,
Comes back with its eyes to tell to
My soul what its lips would spell too—
Comes back to me at hours!—
Dear, is your heart still daggered
There by something amiss?
Love—is he still a laggard?
Hope—is her face still haggard
Tell me what it is!
You, who are done with To-morrow!
Done with these worldly skies!
Done with our pain and sorrow!
Done with the griefs we borrow!
Prayers and tears and sighs!
Must we say "gone forever"?
Or will it all come true?
Shall I attain to you ever?
And, o'er the doubts that sever,
Rise to the truth that's you?
Love, in my flesh so fearful,
Medicine me this pain!—
Love, with the eyes so tearful,
How can my soul be cheerful,
Seeing its joy is slain!
Gone!—'twas only a vision!—
Gone! like a thought, a gleam!—
Such to our indecision
Utter no empty mission,
Truer than that they seem.
4
He sinks into deep thought.
There are shadows that compel us,
There are voices that control;
More than substance these can tell us,
Speaking to the human soul.
In the moonlight, when it glistened
On my window, white as snow,
Once I woke and, leaning, listened
To a voice that sang below.