194
TO A DISTANT FRIEND.
The things we held in common, so that now
One wears the rose of joy, while on some brow
Or in some bosom best-beloved, the thorn
Is rankling deep; for now we may not press
Each other's hand or lip, we do but guess
At one another's faces far withdrawn.
And one is crowned and robed, while one forlorn
Doth sit upon the ground; our lots are cast
So wide, upon the waste your whisper dies,
And while we tell you of our smile it flies.
For even while we speak with you—so fast
Life's golden sands are fleeting—unto Past
Our Present darkens! Yet- the heart hath set
Its calm Eternal Dial to a Sun
That changes not.
Oh, friends, we had not met
E'en when together; heart when drawn to heart
Most near, had shrunk and shivered, held apart
By chillness from within—more blank, more keen
Than seas that roll, than winds that sweep between,
Except for Him who holdeth even yet
Our souls in one. Oh, Love, that doth o'ersweep
The gulfs of Time and Space, and o'er our sleep
And o'er our waking brood, if dear and near
Are one in thy blest language even here,
How may it fare with them that on a shore
Where none are parted, none are troubled more,
A little farther from us dwell, set free
From bonds that fetter here.—And may there be
In heavenly harps a chord that vibrates still
One wears the rose of joy, while on some brow
Or in some bosom best-beloved, the thorn
Is rankling deep; for now we may not press
Each other's hand or lip, we do but guess
At one another's faces far withdrawn.
And one is crowned and robed, while one forlorn
Doth sit upon the ground; our lots are cast
So wide, upon the waste your whisper dies,
And while we tell you of our smile it flies.
For even while we speak with you—so fast
Life's golden sands are fleeting—unto Past
Our Present darkens! Yet- the heart hath set
Its calm Eternal Dial to a Sun
That changes not.
Oh, friends, we had not met
E'en when together; heart when drawn to heart
Most near, had shrunk and shivered, held apart
By chillness from within—more blank, more keen
Than seas that roll, than winds that sweep between,
Except for Him who holdeth even yet
Our souls in one. Oh, Love, that doth o'ersweep
The gulfs of Time and Space, and o'er our sleep
And o'er our waking brood, if dear and near
Are one in thy blest language even here,
How may it fare with them that on a shore
Where none are parted, none are troubled more,
A little farther from us dwell, set free
From bonds that fetter here.—And may there be
In heavenly harps a chord that vibrates still
