“Come—pain ye shall have, and be blind to the ending!
Come—fear ye shall have, mid the sky’s over-casting!
Come—change ye shall have, for far are ye wending!
Come—no crown ye shall have for your thirst and your fasting
But the kissed lips of Love and fair life ever-lasting!
Cry out, for one heedeth who leadeth you home!”
Is he gone? was he with us? ho, ye who seek saving,
Go no further; come hither; for have we not found it?
Here is the House of Fulfilment of Craving,
Here is the Cup with the roses around it;
The World’s wound well healed, and the balm that hath bound it:
Cry out! for he heedeth, fair Love that led home.
William Morris.
BESIDE A BIER.
I HAD never kissed her her whole life long,—
Now I stand by her bier, does she feel
How with love that the waiting years made strong,
I set on her lips my seal?
Will she wear my kiss in the grave’s long night,
And wake sometimes with a thrill,
From dreams of the old life’s missed delight,
To feel that the grave is chill?
“It was warm,” will she say, “in that world above;
It was warm, but I did not know
How he loved me there, with his whole life’s love,—
It is cold down here below.”
Louise Chandler Moulton.
HEREAFTER.
IN after years a twilight ghost shall fill
With shadowy presence all thy waiting room:
From lips of air thou canst not kiss the bloom;
Yet at old kisses will thy pulses thrill,
And the old longing that thou couldst not kill,
Feeling her presence in the gathering gloom,
Will mock thee with the hopelessness of doom,
While she stands there and smiles, serene and still.
Thou canst not vex her, then, with passion’s pain:
Call, and the silence will thy call repeat;
But she will smile there, with cold lips and sweet,
Forgetful of old tortures, and the chain
That once she wore, the tears she wept in vain,
At passing from her threshold of thy feet.
Louise Chandler Moulton.