Poems (Chitwood)/The Spirit's Tryst

by Mary Louisa Chitwood

THE SPIRIT'S TRYST.

Day, wrapped in robes of pink and gold,
 Hath slowly gone to rest;
Three fleecy clouds their wings unfold
 And sail athwart the west—
And earth and sky and all I see,
 Are very beautiful to me.

And now mine eyes arc raised above
 Through ether waves afar,
My spirit flies like Noah's dove,
 To yonder glittering star;
Though thousands gem the tranquil sky,
 I see but one—Oh, tell me why?

The rainbows rise o'er memory's mist,
 In colors clear and free—
That star, it is our spirit's tryst,
 'Tis there I meet with thee;
When evening phantoms slowly rise,
 And night lifts up her large black eyes.

I meet thee there, not as we meet
 Upon the earth below,
But in a spirit union sweet,
 On spirit wings of snow;
And there as balmy hours depart,
 As open book I read thy heart.

Dear place of tryst, sweet star of love,
 Thy glorious eyes shall shine,
In their pure Eden home above,
 When closed in dust are mine:
Nor wilt thou miss the last farewell
 Of one who loves thee, Oh, how well.

And thou, dear "kindred spirit," thou
 To whom my thoughts are given,
If sweet are spirit meetings now,
 What shall they be in heaven—
Where time nor change nor death resists,
 The never broken spirit trysts.