Page:All quiet along the Potomac and other poems.djvu/113

From Wikisource
Jump to: navigation, search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.

'Twas the wistful petition
 Of childish saint, going
Across the dark river
 What wonder tis growing!


I DID not know her yesterday,
 This gentle friend of mine;
There was no niche unfilled, I thought,
 Within this heart of mine.

To-day I know her; songs of mine
 Have spoken for me while unseen,
Stretching like spider lines wind-blown
 Our severed selves between.

When I have done my best she knew;
 When I have failed she cared,
Looking beyond the ink-clogged pen,
 My unbreathed trials shared.

Ah ! through this living type I guess
 How vanished ones may keep
Some busy distaff s subtle thread
 Unbroken, tho I sleep.

And still I gladder grow to think
 Some souls I do not know
As yet may meet me by and by,
 And, loving me, yet tell me so.