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CONSOLATION.
143
Ah me! the red is yet upon my cheek,
And in my veins life's vigorous currents play;
Adown my hair there shines no warning streak,
And the sweet meeting which you paint to-day
Seems sadly far away.
And in my veins life's vigorous currents play;
Adown my hair there shines no warning streak,
And the sweet meeting which you paint to-day
Seems sadly far away.
Another tells me that he loves me still,—
Sees, hears, and guides me through life's hurrying throng,
While I, despite my yearning sense and will,
Am blind and deaf, and do his deep love wrong,
By weeping all day long.
Sees, hears, and guides me through life's hurrying throng,
While I, despite my yearning sense and will,
Am blind and deaf, and do his deep love wrong,
By weeping all day long.
What does it comfort me, if still he walks
Beside me all the while, invisibly?
What does it help me, that a dear ghost mocks
Blind eyes with unseen smiles? I fail to see
What comfort it may be.
Beside me all the while, invisibly?
What does it help me, that a dear ghost mocks
Blind eyes with unseen smiles? I fail to see
What comfort it may be.
There is no balm. Though he may dwell in bliss,
I sit in gref. It is the loss, the lack,
The absence, and the utter emptiness
Which kill me. Comfort?—Find the graveward track
And bring my darling back!
I sit in gref. It is the loss, the lack,
The absence, and the utter emptiness
Which kill me. Comfort?—Find the graveward track
And bring my darling back!
