TO A LONG-PARTED FRIEND.
183
A long, deep, sighing breath, and like a pent
Volcanic force, this smouldering element
Would kindle at thy glance; I felt a stir
Among the ashes of a sepulchre
Long sealed, long smooth with grass, with flowers o'ergrown,
A word from Thee, and bursting through the stone
The Dead had risen up! before one shrine
We knelt together; though the fires are cold
We lighted there, I deem that still we hold
A mournful faith unto this worship old
And lovely, counting it for half Divine.
Now is that altar broken, and a sign
From Heaven hath warned us hence—we may not bring
The living Past again, we can but wring
Its secrets from its grasp, disquieting
Like one of old, with awful charm its sleep:
Oh, leave its rest unbroken, I assign
A day far hence to meet Thee—now thine eye
Would vex me with its kindness, silently
Would turn where mine is turning;—even yet,
I am as one that wistful o'er a wave
Stoops down, intent, and sees beneath it lie
The fragments of a wreck, that glistering wet
Tempt down the eager outstretched hand; I crave
A little longer pause, for soon or late
Come all things to a calm;—I do but wait.
Volcanic force, this smouldering element
Would kindle at thy glance; I felt a stir
Among the ashes of a sepulchre
Long sealed, long smooth with grass, with flowers o'ergrown,
A word from Thee, and bursting through the stone
The Dead had risen up! before one shrine
We knelt together; though the fires are cold
We lighted there, I deem that still we hold
A mournful faith unto this worship old
And lovely, counting it for half Divine.
Now is that altar broken, and a sign
From Heaven hath warned us hence—we may not bring
The living Past again, we can but wring
Its secrets from its grasp, disquieting
Like one of old, with awful charm its sleep:
Oh, leave its rest unbroken, I assign
A day far hence to meet Thee—now thine eye
Would vex me with its kindness, silently
Would turn where mine is turning;—even yet,
I am as one that wistful o'er a wave
Stoops down, intent, and sees beneath it lie
The fragments of a wreck, that glistering wet
Tempt down the eager outstretched hand; I crave
A little longer pause, for soon or late
Come all things to a calm;—I do but wait.
