Poems (Allen)/"The Upward Road"
F thou hadst told me, when the bloom Of last year's June was on the tree, That ere another spring should come I should have looked my last on thee,—
"THE UPWARD ROAD."
F thou hadst told me, when the bloom Of last year's June was on the tree, That ere another spring should come I should have looked my last on thee,—If I had known that now, alas! Our ways would lie so far apart That now the clover-blooms and grass Would wave above thy pulseless heart,—
That when my thoughts should turn to thee, Thy olden smile and word to crave, It would but lead me mournfully Beside a newly-sodded grave,—
I should have clasped thy friendly hand With warmer pressure, when we met, Igor blindly failed to understand The eyes whose meaning haunts me yet;
Within whose mellow darkness lay A prescience of the change to be, A shadow soft, which hid away All that is now revealed to me.
The scent of young leaves fills the way,— The showers walk lightly o'er the hills And every night and every day The prophecy of May fulfils,—
The lilacs, purpling to the eaves, Fling all their fragrant spikes about, The chestnut spreads its fingered leaves And hangs its mimic lanterns out,—
The orchards tempt the wandering bees With wastes of white-and-rosy bloom, Where Eolus, with viewless keys, Unlocks the flood-gates of perfume;
But thou, whose loving eyes were keen To catch the glories of the spring, Sleepest beneath thy veil of green, Unmindful of the joys they bring;
For thou hast done with woe and strife, Hast laid time's burden meekly down,—And on thy brow immortal life Gathers its radiance like a crown.
Thy feet have found "the upward road," Of which, but now, thou toldest me, While, bending underneath my load, I follow slowly after thee.
