Poems (May)/"Wouldst thou persuade"

by Edith May

Wouldst thou persuade my bitter mood to gladness—
Hush thy light laugh, withhold thy merry jest;
Mirth only spurs to grief my present sadness,
Vexing my heart, an ill-timed busy guest.

While fast and full the sullen tides roll o'er me,
Seek not to charm me with thy lovely song.
And stay thy hand, be silent, I implore thee;
Touch not the chords that deeper chords prolong.

Oh look without—arrayed in calmest splendour,
The hills stand rapt, the vales are swathed in gloom,
Speak to me now, but words austere yet tender,
High as the stars and humble as the tomb.

That drawing near life's low-arched narrow portal,
We catch faint glimpses as of heights sublime;
And looking up, behold how hopes immortal
Shine through some fissures in the walls of time.