Poems (Greenwell)/A Song of Memory
A SONG OF MEMORY.
Here it was I saw her last: When the farewells all were said, Through the garden speeding fast She o'ertook me breathless, led By some gentle after-thought, That she spoke not yet, but smiled As I stooped to set me free From a wild-briar clinging, "See, This kind weed to stay thee sought, Yet wilt thou break from it and me;"Then she clasped me, smiling still Through the shining of a tear, "Come and go, dear friend, at will, Comfort still thou leavest here; Should the future days bereave, Never with a chiding sore Can the bygone bid us grieve That we loved not in them more!"
So we parted where we stood In the ancient gateway; then As I hurried down the wood, Once I turned to look again Where she stood, in life and bloom, With the summer sunshine kind Streaming round her, in the gloom Of the massive arch enshrined; To her feet the shadows crept From the grey and ruined stone, And her form from out them swept Like an Apparition thrown On the sunny air—the light Smote her forehead—even now Bides that vision in my sight With the halo on its brow! Even so, within my heart Ever young and fond and fair Stands she in her shrine, apart From the ruins round her there; Glides her image through its gloom In a quiet track of light,As within a darkened room Soft a straggling sunbeam falls On the ceiling, on the walls, Finding nothing else so bright!
Dark the castle stands above, Dark the river onward floweth, Murmuring as one that knoweth Somewhat of my grief and love. Nay! the river nothing knoweth, Ever floweth, ever speedeth, Nothing heedeth as it floweth, Of all my heart hath missed and needeth; Murmur, murmur, still unknowing, Murmur, murmur, in thy flowing, None the less will fond believing Link thy chiding with my grieving. Since we walked beside thy stream, Oft 'mid summer musings lost I have dreamed a deeper dream; She a deeper stream hath crossed,—Crossed it singing! once of old Dark and swift that river flowed Sunless, to an unknown sea; And the nations shivering stood On the margin of the flood, Sorely pressed behind,—before Lay a dim and doubtful shore; Till a Helper, at the cry Of a world in agony, With a garment dipped in blood, Smote the waters as He passed On a glorious errand;—fast Hither, thither backwards drew All the sullen waves, and through Came His ransomed! King and Priest, Sage and warrior, virgin mild,And the Slave from bonds released. 'And the mother with her child, From the greatest to the least, Crossed it singing! but to me As I watched that company, Strong and beautiful and bold Seemed they all, and I was weak, And the river still was cold, And the country far to seek! But since Thou didst leave my side,Following after, with my tear Still upon thy cheek undried, Seems the river far less wide, And the hither shore more near: Ever more that shore was dear For the sake of one unseen, So He shows me it more clear By the light of what had been,For like lichen on the stone Ever round each well-known thing Still this heart of mine hath grown, Firm to fix and close to cling: So God beckons by a Hand I have clasped, unto His land; So He bids its Dawn arise On me, through beloved eyes; So the new, unearthly song Seems a strain remembered long; With the angel voices blend Tones familiar, seraphs wear Looks I loved on earth; oh, friend, Kind companion, Thou art there!