Poems (Blake)/Longing

by Mary Elizabeth Blake

For works with similar titles, see Longing.

LONGING!

We who walk the common pathway
 Of this lower world of ours,
Sometimes live in double seeming,
   Plucking thorns and flowers.

Sometimes know a dual being,—
 Moments full of passion gleam,
When the hurrying crowd beside us
   Fades as in a dream;

And the slumbering soul within us
 Wakes to an unwonted glow,
Thrilling as the springtime blossoms
   Under winter's snow.

Though they call us prince or peasant,
 Silken robed or hodden gray,
Equal stand we in the presence
   Of that inner day.

And we rise in might triumphant,
 Burning with a high desire,
As on old heroic altars
   Flamed the sacred fire.

Longing for the crash of battle,
 When amid the weaponed din
Sturdy spirits enter freely
   Glorious meed to win.

Longing for the good beyond us,
 For a glimpse of Him who waits
Throned within the shining city
   And the radiant gates.

Longing Is it only longing?
 Are the thoughts that come and go
Still to die like summer blossoms
   Under winter's snow?

Are they only idle fancies,
 Falsely fair to rise and shine,
Or, indeed, the blessed gleaming
   Of a spark divine?

Who shall tell us through the silence,
 Though we ask with longing fond,
Till we pass and find our answers
   Waiting us beyond!