All my life’s short years had been stern and sterile—
I stood like one whom the blasts blow back—
As with shipmen whirled through the straits of Peril,
So fierce foes menaced my every track.
But I steeled my soul to a strong endeavour,
I bared my brow as the sharp strokes fell,
And I said to my heart—“Hope on! Hope ever:
Have Courage—Courage, and all is well.”
Then, bright as the blood in my heart’s rich chalice,
O Blossom, Blossom!—you came from far;
And life rang joy, all the World’s loud malice
Shrilled to the edge of our utmost star.
And I said: “On me let the rough storms hurtle,
The great clouds gather and shroud my sun—
But you shall be Queen where the rose and myrtle
Laugh with the year till the year is done.”
So my Dream fell dead; and the fluctuant passion—
The stress and strain of the past re-grew,
The world laughed on in its heedless fashion,
But Earth whirled worthless, because of you!
In that Lake of Tears which my grief discovered,
I laid dead Love with a passionate kiss,
And over those soundless depths has hovered
The sweet, sad wraith of my vanished bliss.
Heart clings to Heart—let the strange years sever
The fates of two who had met—to part;
Love’s strength survives, and the harsh world never
Shall crush the passion of heart for heart;
For I know my life, though it droop and dwindle,
Shall leave me Love till I fade and die,
And when hereafter our Souls re-kindle,
Who shall be fonder—You or I?