IN ABSENCE.
And quick as when a blush
Drinks up within its hasty glow a tear
From off the cheek, within that sudden gush
Of warmth our sadness grew to better cheer.
Not now so wide, methinks, not now so drear
The blank that parts our lives, for Love between
Keeps ever moving; even now I ween
Thy task becomes less hard! for sacrifice
And patience are thy path, which ever lies
O'er odorous herbs; but other destinies
And other toils are mine, arid, like a goad,
The thought of thee doth urge me on the road
Where thou dost wait me: but lest this should fail,—
For Hope, the lover's friend, grows sometimes pale
In musing o'er his fortunes,—oft to me
A surer aim is present: I would be
Of thee more worthy and of Him that blest
My life with thine, and thus I cannot rest;
Spurred on by noble discontent, my care
Is still to make this proud, unquiet breast
The fitter for the flower it may not wear!
Drinks up within its hasty glow a tear
From off the cheek, within that sudden gush
Of warmth our sadness grew to better cheer.
Not now so wide, methinks, not now so drear
The blank that parts our lives, for Love between
Keeps ever moving; even now I ween
Thy task becomes less hard! for sacrifice
And patience are thy path, which ever lies
O'er odorous herbs; but other destinies
And other toils are mine, arid, like a goad,
The thought of thee doth urge me on the road
Where thou dost wait me: but lest this should fail,—
For Hope, the lover's friend, grows sometimes pale
In musing o'er his fortunes,—oft to me
A surer aim is present: I would be
Of thee more worthy and of Him that blest
My life with thine, and thus I cannot rest;
Spurred on by noble discontent, my care
Is still to make this proud, unquiet breast
The fitter for the flower it may not wear!
