Like a beautiful face looking ever at me A pure bright moon cometh over the sea; And I stand on the crags, and hear the falls Go tumbling down, through the black river-walls; And the heart of the gorge is rent with the cry Of the pent-up winds in their agony! You are far from me, dear, where I watch and wait, Like a weary bird for a long-lost mate, And my life is as dull as the sluggish stream Feeling its way through a world of dream; For here is a waste of darkness and fear, And I call and I call, but no one will hear! O darling of mine, do you ever yearn For a something lost, which will never return? O darling of mine, on the grave of dead Hours, Do you feel, like me, for a handful of flowers? Through the glens of the Past, do you wander along, Like a restless ghost that hath done a wrong? And, lying alone, do you look from the drouth Of a thirsty Life with a pleading mouth? When the rain's on the roof, and the gales are abroad, Do you wash with your tears the feet of your God? Oh! I know you do, and he sitteth alone, Your wounded Love, while you mourn and moan -- Oh! I know you do, and he never will leap From his silence with smiles, while you weep -- and weep! Your coolness shake down, ye gathered green leaves, For my spirit is faint with the love that it grieves! Is there aught on the summit, O yearner through Night, Aught on the summit which looks like the light; When my soul is a-wearied and lone in the land, Groping around will it touch a kind hand? There are chasms between us as black as a pall, But bring us together, O God over all! And let me cast from me these fetters of Fear, When I hear the glad singing of Faith so near; For I know by the cheeks, which are pallid and wet, And a listening life we shall mingle yet! Oh! then I will turn to those eloquent eyes, And clasp thee close, with a sweet surprise; And a guest will go in by the heart's holy door, And the chambers of Love shall be left no more. |