Poems (Dorr)/At Dawn

by Julia Caroline Dorr

AT DAWN

At dawn, when the jubilant morning broke,
 And its glory flooded the mountain side,
I said, "'Tis eleven years to-day,
 Eleven years since my darling died!"

And then I turned to my household ways,
 To my daily tasks, without, within,
As happily busy all the day
 As if my darling had never been!—

As if she had never lived, or died!
 Yet when they buried her out of my sight
I thought the sun had gone down at noon,
 And the day could never again be bright.

Ah, well! As the swift years come and go,
 It will not be long ere I shall lie
Somewhere under a bit of turf,
 With my pale hands folded quietly.

And then someone who has loved me well—
 Perhaps the one who has loved me best—
Will say of meas I said of her,
 "She has been just so many years at rest"—

Then turn to the living loves again,
 To the busy life, without, within,
And the day will go on from dawn to dusk,
 Even as if I had never been!

Dear hearts! dear hearts! It must still be so!
 The roses will bloom, and the stars will shine,
And the soft green grass creep still and slow,
 Sometime over a grave of mine—

And over the grave in your hearts as well!
 Ye cannot hinder it if ye would;
And I—ah! I shall be wiser then—
 I would not hinder it if I could!