178
VII.
Should but have proved the furnace in whose glow
The fiery bars of metal fuse, and grow
More close together welded; even so.
But in this world of ours the heart, though strong
And armed and watchful, never holdeth long
Its own in peace; for sure as to the moon
The Ocean rises, here a steadfast law
Doth hold or rend asunder hearts that draw
Together, restless till they meet, then soon
Divided, and for ever; it would seem
That God hath made these loving hearts and bold,
For Him and for His world that lies a-cold
For lack of generous fuel, not to fold
Their warmth within each other, but to stream
Afar and wide, with broader, purer gleam.
How this may be I know not, but I know
That never more within our hearth-light's glow
These sat together; never, gazing through
One lattice, watched the sky; but when they knew
Their paths were severed, rising, on their way
Went forth before the breaking of the day,
And parted on Life's cross-road,—not before
Each lifted up a voice of weeping sore.
And blessed the other's journey! So they moved
(In tents abiding) through new lands that bore
No likeness to the country where of yore
They dwelt together: other scenes and looks
Grew round them; other hearts became the books
They read and mused in; other trials proved,
And other blessings gladdened, yet they loved.
The fiery bars of metal fuse, and grow
More close together welded; even so.
But in this world of ours the heart, though strong
And armed and watchful, never holdeth long
Its own in peace; for sure as to the moon
The Ocean rises, here a steadfast law
Doth hold or rend asunder hearts that draw
Together, restless till they meet, then soon
Divided, and for ever; it would seem
That God hath made these loving hearts and bold,
For Him and for His world that lies a-cold
For lack of generous fuel, not to fold
Their warmth within each other, but to stream
Afar and wide, with broader, purer gleam.
How this may be I know not, but I know
That never more within our hearth-light's glow
These sat together; never, gazing through
One lattice, watched the sky; but when they knew
Their paths were severed, rising, on their way
Went forth before the breaking of the day,
And parted on Life's cross-road,—not before
Each lifted up a voice of weeping sore.
And blessed the other's journey! So they moved
(In tents abiding) through new lands that bore
No likeness to the country where of yore
They dwelt together: other scenes and looks
Grew round them; other hearts became the books
They read and mused in; other trials proved,
And other blessings gladdened, yet they loved.
