And the dim vague memory of faint sorrow
Just remain to show us all was best,
Then melt into a divine to-morrow:—
O how poor a day to be so blest!
ROM this fair point of present bliss,
Where we together stand,
Let me look back once more, and trace
That long and desert land
Wherein till now was cast my lot, and I could live, and thou wert not.
Strange that my heart could beat, and know
Alternate joy and pain,
That suns could roll from east to west,
And clouds could pass in rain,
And the slow hours without thee fleet, nor stay their noiseless silver feet.
What had I then? a Hope, that grew
Each hour more bright and dear,
The flush upon the eastern skies
That showed the sun was near:—
Now night has faded far away, my sun has risen, and it is day.
A dim Ideal of tender grace
In my soul reigned supreme;
