O, lost! I think I see thee stand,
By Mary's ivied chapel door,
Where once thou stood'st, and with thy hand
Wring pious pain, as once before.
Impatient, crude philosopher,
I scorned thy gentle wisdom's ray.
All vain thy moistened eyelids were;
I sent my soul and thee away.
A causeless wrath, a mood of pride,
Some tears of thine, and all was done;
On alien plains I travelled wide
And thou wert soon a veiléd nun.
Not long a veiléd nun, but soon
Unveiled of linen and of clay;
But I am March while thou art June,
For I have sent my soul away.
And now when I would love thee well,
There sits alone within my breast
Calm guilt that dare not from its hell
Look up and wish the thing thou art.
I see a dreadful gulf of fright
Beneath my falling life; and gray,
Thy light becomes the ghost of light
Above it as it falls away.
I have a life, a voice, a form,
A skilful hand to lift and turn,
I have emotions like a storm,
A brain to throb, a heart to burn;
But that which Jesus' blood can save,
Which looks toward eternal day,
Is gone before me to the grave.—
It was my soul I sent away.
The past is past, and o'er its woe
It is no comfort to repine;
But I would wage my life to know
Thy feet in heaven keep pace with mine.
I have no hope, I will not weep,
The only wish that wish I may
Is this, that I may find asleep
The soul I thought I sent away.
THE KNIGHT ERRANT.
CLOUD TO WIND
O blow, blow high, for I descend;
Friend must go to meet his friend,
If to earth you tie your feet
You and I will never meet.
WIND
Nay, I haste. A trifle wait;
I exceed my usual gait.
Ha! this hill-top is sublime,
But it makes me pant to climb.
CLOUD
Once again, a little space,
Meet we in this Alpine place,
Before you leap adown the vale
Or I along my pathway sail.
WIND
Then let our little bell of time
Ring onward with a chatty chime—
How we have fled o'er earth and sky,
And what you saw and what saw I.