Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, HELEN IN THE WOOD, by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

HELEN IN THE WOOD, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: I left the yew-tree shadow, thrown
Last Line: "o love, how deep! How broad! How high!"
Alternate Author Name(s): Duclaux, Madame Emile; Darmesteter, Mary; Robinson, A. Mary F.
Subject(s): Death; Dead, The


I LEFT the yew-tree shadow, thrown
Slantwise across the graves, and grown
So long I knew the day waxed late,
And opened wide the churchyard gate;
Paused there; for from the church behind
Voices of women thrilled the wind,
And organ music rose and rang:
I heard the village choir that sang.
But I, that had no heart for song,
Sighed, shut the gate, and went along
The lane (where rows of elms, wind-vexed,
Nodded fantastic heads perplexed
At winter's dimly boded woes),
Until the trees grew thick and close.
The rain was over, but the copse
Shook down at whiles some after-drops,
Tho' sunshine, thro' wet branches seen,
Flickered in living flakes of green,
And, where below ground-ivy grew,
A fallen heaven lay darkly blue.

So soon! the tempest scarce was done,
And all the wet world sang and shone
More lovely yet: I think the place
Found but in grief an added grace;
While I -- the tears fell and I sighed:
It was a year since Helen died.

At last I raised mine eyes. Behold,
The branches green, the bracken's gold
Gained a new meaning in my sight,
That found the centre of their light.
For down the dim wood-arches came --
Was it a star? Was it a flame? --
No; there my Helen went, all white.

Just as of old, above the large
Sweet eyes, the hair made golden marge;
Thro' tangled fern, thro' grass still wet,
Her feet went firmly on; -- and yet
I knew, altho' no word was said,
She did not live, she was not dead.

Ah, having loved we cannot lose!
The deepest grave can ne'er refuse
The phantom of the Past, the ghost
Of all we loved and owned and lost!
So once, one moment, Helen dear,
I saw thee still beside me here.
I praised the old familiar grace....
She paused, she looked me in the face,
Smiled once her smile that understood,
Passed; -- and how lonely was the wood!

I trod the way I went before;
I passed the church's open door.
The hymn went pealing up the sky:
"O love, how deep! how broad! how high!"





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