Poems (Chitwood)/I know not Where Thou Art
"I KNOW NOT WHERE THOU ART."
I know not where thou art,— Day follows weary day,Melting the fragrance from my heart In bitterness away. I hear the tones I heard In other days, and yetI list in vain for one dear word: And can'st thou, too, forget?
I know not where thou art,— I seek thee like a dove,And yet my weary, bleeding heart Finds no sweet ark of love.I roam o'er mountains blue, And o'er the moaning sea,In spirit saying, "Art thou true?" No answer comes to me.
I ask the breeze that shakes The alders o'er the rill,If it hath met thee, but it makes A sadder music still.I ask the birds that fly On white wings from the west,They pause not for my tearful eye, They bring no waif of rest.
I know not where thou art,— It may be thou art dead,That western flowers with dewy heart Drop tears upon thy head;And yet, if it were so, Thy soul would give to meSome sweet, fond word, that I might know, If I was dear to thee.
And thus life passes on; The world no more is bright—The evening stars, the early dawn Seem only sable night.I know not where thou art; And, weary day-by-dayCrushes life's blossoms from my heart, A withered mass, away.