IN THE PASS.
83
O Love, O Joys above
All words of my telling, stay!
Does your swiftness mean that love
Has day, and noon of day?
All words of my telling, stay!
Does your swiftness mean that love
Has day, and noon of day?
This sweetness more, more sweet,
And this brightness growing bright,
This silent, delicious heat,
This dearer, tenderer light,—
And this brightness growing bright,
This silent, delicious heat,
This dearer, tenderer light,—
O Love, mean these a noon,
A noon which thou climb'st to find,
That moment over too soon,
With morning left behind?
A noon which thou climb'st to find,
That moment over too soon,
With morning left behind?
O Love, we kneel, we pray,
"For our sweet Love's precious sake;
Set here the bound of our day;
Grant us this choice we make.
"For our sweet Love's precious sake;
Set here the bound of our day;
Grant us this choice we make.
We fear the gray hour's sight,
The moment over too soon;
Spare us the chill of the night;
We will forego our noon!
The moment over too soon;
Spare us the chill of the night;
We will forego our noon!
IN THE PASS.
CROSS my road a mountain rose of rock,—Fierce, naked rock. Its shadow, black and chill,
Shut out the sun. Gray clouds, which seemed to mock
