The same long reach of yellow sand,—
Where is the touch of thy soft hand?
The same wide open arch of sky,—
But, sweetheart, thou no more art nigh!
God love thee and God keep thee strong:
I breathe that pure prayer through my song!
I send my soul across the waste
To seek and find thy soul in haste!
Across the inland woods and glades,
And through the leaf-laced checkered shades,
My spirit passes, seeking thee;
No more I tarry by the sea.
For where thou art am I for ever;
Mere space and time divide us never.
George Barlow.
IF ONLY THOU ART TRUE.
IF only a single Rose is left,
Why should the summer pine?
A blade of grass in a rocky cleft;
A single star to shine.
—Why should I sorrow if all be lost,
If only thou art mine?
If only a single Bluebell gleams
Bright on the barren heath,
Still of that flower the summer dreams,
Not of his August wreath.
—Why should I sorrow if thou art mine,
Love, beyond change and death?