Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE JOURNEY, by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH Poet's Biography First Line: Some there are that melt and meet Last Line: Love shall raise us up again. Subject(s): God; Worship | ||||||||
SOME there are that melt and meet With all Eden in their eyes. Irised loves that flame and beat Shine as sweet as Paradise. And they look and they know And they glimmer and they flow Like a murmuring in the water Or a melting in the snow; Delicately they come near, And the knowledge in their eyes Leaves not any doubt or fear, For wise Eden makes them wise. Through the flood and through the flame, Hostile roads of no delight, Girt with bitterness and shame Still our spirits came aright. And I knew thee but to doubt, And thy hatred found me out Like a blindness all about And a thunder in the night. Still our bleeding feet would run When our spirits bade them stay, Destined for no other one, Doomed to tread no other way. If some other heart than mine Housed thee for a dream or two, If before some alien shrine Any prayer of thine came true, If She broke with thee the bread While I went uncomforted, I will love those hands that fed Visions to the soul of you. Dreams of beautiful and rare I 'II not envy nor gainsay. If her kiss has kept thee fair I 'II not wear that kiss away. Love -- thou knowest for a while How He kept my heart in his! Then I learned from out his smile Love's guile and its mysteries. Strange that his soul's lips should teach Unto mine the silvering speech That we talk now, each to each, Singing words That have flown beyond his reach Like homing birds. Dear, thy feast was spread so late! And He bade my heart inside. I was hungry and I ate -- Had I not, I should have died. Now we meet and now we know. Yet -- 't is all so strange a thing -- When we love each other so We cannot forego love's sting! Still our splendid sorrows shine, And the bleeding pageant goes, Swinging through thy heart and mine, Of innumerable woes. With my head upon thy breast Still I fight thee and contend. And those wounds disturb my rest That you gave my heart, -- O Friend. They that love in lesser ways Lesser toils their love may prove. But we would not rid our days Of the doubts through which we rove; Would not give, for all their flowers, And their golden, perfumed showers, This great grievous love of ours And the solemn wars of love. By our hearts that shall outlast All the storm and stress of men, By the dark ways of our past And the wounds that grieved us then, By the doubts through which we bled By the faith that comforted, By that love that leaves us dead, Love shall raise us up again. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COMPANIONSHIP by MALTBIE DAVENPORT BABCOCK FOR I WILL CONSIDER YOUR DOG MOLLY by DAVID LEHMAN RUSSIAN CATHEDRAL by CLAUDE MCKAY LITTLE WHITE CHURCH by MARILYN NELSON A STEEPLE ON THE HOUSE by ROBERT FROST MATE (1) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON ANSWER TO PRAYER by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE TEN COMMANDMENTS by GEORGE SANTAYANA SONGS FOR MY MOTHER: 2. HER HANDS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |
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