Poems (Hinchman)/Beloved, when I reach my hands
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XVIAMOR ERRANS
Beloved, when I reach my hands
Across the cloudy, star-blown night,
I hear across the shifting sands
The murmuring sea, and my delight
Becomes a fear; the empty halls
That God built of the æon's waste
Give back the sound of my footfalls.
My heart, lest now I die, oh haste,
Haste, heart, unto the higher hill
That nearer is the myriad stars,
And on the mountains, till time kill,
Wander among the cloudy bars;
Or till love come, and coming call
From out the wilderness of space:
Gather no more thy briars tall,
For thou art gather'd in their place.
Across the cloudy, star-blown night,
I hear across the shifting sands
The murmuring sea, and my delight
Becomes a fear; the empty halls
That God built of the æon's waste
Give back the sound of my footfalls.
My heart, lest now I die, oh haste,
Haste, heart, unto the higher hill
That nearer is the myriad stars,
And on the mountains, till time kill,
Wander among the cloudy bars;
Or till love come, and coming call
From out the wilderness of space:
Gather no more thy briars tall,
For thou art gather'd in their place.