The moon had set. There was not any light,
Save of the lonely legion’d watch-stars pale
In outer air, and what by fits made bright
Hot oleanders in a rosy vale
Searched by the lamping fly, whose little spark
Went in and out, like passion’s bashful hope.
Meanwhile the sleepy globe began to slope
A ponderous shoulder sunward thro’ the dark.
And the night pass’d in beauty like a dream.
Aloof in those dark heavens paused Destiny,
With her last star descending in the gleam
Of the cold morrow, from the emptied sky.
The hour, the distance from her old self, all
The novelty and loneness of the place
Had left a lovely awe on that fair face,
And all the land grew strange and magical.
As droops some billowy cloud to the crouch’d hill,
Heavy with all heaven’s tears, for all earth’s care,
She droop’d unto me, without force or will,
And sank upon my bosom, murmuring there
A woman’s inarticulate passionate words.
O moment of all moments upon earth!
O life’s supreme! How worth, how wildly worth,
Whole worlds of flame, to know this world affords.
What even Eternity can not restore!
When all the ends of life take hands and meet
Round centres of sweet fire. Ah, never more,
Ah never, shall the bitter with the sweet
Be mingled so in the pale after-years!
One hour of life immortal spirits possess.
This drains the world, and leaves but weariness,
And parching passion, and perplexing tears.
Sad is it, that we cannot even keep
That hour to sweeten life’s last toil: but Youth
Grasps all, and leaves us: and when we would weep,
We dare not let our tears fall, lest, in truth,
They fall upon our work which must be done.
And so we bind up our torn hearts from breaking:
Our eyes from weeping, and our brows from aching:
And follow the long pathway all alone.
The Last Wish
SINCE all that I can ever do for thee
Is to do nothing, this my prayer must be:
That thou mayst never guess nor ever see
The all-endured this nothing-done costs me.
JAMES THOMSON
1834-1882