Page:Poems Greenwell.djvu/272

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260
MARY.
The summer sound of bees among the flowers,
With distant voices from the harvest field;
I know not how it was, but on my spirit
There fell a quietness so still and deep,
A sadness that had such a sweetness in it,
As I can find no language to express;
There are such moments, when the air is full
Of blessing, moments in our life when Heaven
Seems nearer to us, and its lofty gates
Set wider open; in that Sabbath moment,
All that I loved were with me, William,
George, and my little girl; I thought of all
The things that had been, and my soul was filled
With humble, hopeful, reconciling joy:
Just then the door was opened, and looked in
Our good old clergyman, my father's friend;
He made a sign to me, and by the bed
Sate silent till my father should awake.
At last he stirred, and when he saw our friend
He said, "You, Sir, alone? Where are they all?
And where is Mary? seldom is it she
Deserts her post," he added, smiling kindly.
I answered, "Father, I am here;" and then
Knelt down beside the bed and took his hand,
And kissed it over and again, and said,
"Oh, Father, only say that you forgive us!
For now I know that in your heart you have
Forgiven us, then only tell us so!
We feel as if your anger turned away
God's face from us—Oh, father! then forgive us;