Poems (Clark)/To One who was Tried

by Annie Maria Lawrence Clark

TO ONE WHO WAS TRIED

I read you thus, sweet friend, and noble woman,
 Strong in your weakness, loving in your pain;
Holding this true as Christ's own precious teaching,
 Bliss through another's anguish fails of gain,—
And hopes, whose rainbow arch o'er curves crushed longings,—
 Another's longings, are but dreamings vain.

I read you hold this true, and so, when meeting,
 A test to prove you in this proffered choice;
Through the sweet under-current of your being,
 1 think you heard a gently-cadenced voice
Bidding you take Christ's starry lamp of guidance,
 Denying self, that others might rejoice.

I think I know, how, in your fond caressing,
 You held that gentle friend with circling arm,
Rejoicing you were strong to aid her weakness,
 And guide her from the thorny ways of harm;
And how, with hand upon your heart, you stilled its throbbings,
 Yielding to her what made life's sweetest charm.

I know, how, in your fancies of the future,
 A happy home rose as a picture fair,
Where love stood watchman o'er a flower-wreathed entrance,
 And little children claimed your tender care;
And all the joys a woman's fond heart yearns for
 Fell like a crown of blessings to your share.

And all this bliss that golden ring betokened,
 That proffered ring that you might call your own;
And that rich roll of gold that symboled to you
 The wealth of love that should be yours alone,—
If only you could stifle the remembrance
 Another's heart must throb a ceaseless moan.

I do not wonder that you faltered, longing
 To hold the ring, and leave behind the cross;—
To bear such weight upon your trembling shoulders,
 And feel your burden was but tarnished dross;
Knowing the cross you hid within your bosom.
 Must be the headstone o'er a lifelong loss.

I understand the fierceness of the conflict,
 And how you watched your friend's fast paling cheek,
And knew the radiant circle of your blessings,
 On which she gazed in sadness dumb and meek,
Was such a contrast, in its starry gleaming,
 With the dull cross that pressed her shoulders weak.

I do not think you waited long ere yielding
 Your happiness to soothe your loved one's woe;
And I can dream you learned a trick of smiling,
 When on her cheek you saw the roses glow;
Folding, meanwhile, the cross unto your bosom,
 Bidding nor look, nor word your anguish show.

And He, who came to comfort in grief's midnight,
 Has writ this promise on your hidden cross;
"The merciful are blessed, obtaining mercy;"
 Heaven's compensations o'er crown earth's dull dross,
And God, from out his treasures of compassion,
 Will work your sweetest gladness from life's loss.