Poems (Greenwell)/After Parting
AFTER PARTING.
O Love, O Death! how sweet, How strange are ye! oh Parting! that dost stand Between these twain, from touch of either hand—One warm, one cold, thou winnest strength to meet Thy hour and overcome it! Tenderness And woe are twins! and may not deeply bless Except together, when the tear one weeps Falls in the golden cup the other keeps Hid for this moment in his breast, unshown Till needed most;
When Love must leave its Own Belovèd, loved unto the end, it broke Its vase of costliest odours; though it spoke Before as none have spoken, then its tone Was fullest, clearest; breaking hearts have flown To fasten on those words, "Be not afraid!" And aching spirits, desolate, have grown Like limpets to this Rock, "now have I prayed The Father for you, and ye are not lone,—I leave you not uncomforted." E'en so Full oft since then hath Parting made us know A Heavenly Presence; while we broke our bread With bitter herbs, the words were not our own That then we spoke, and we were comforted.
For there is concentration in strong pain That draws the soul together; it can hold Its breath beneath the waves, and like a bold Strong diver, desperate will snatch and gain What calmer moments fail of. One of old Spake, looking on his judges, "Soon I die; So gather up my words that are not vain,—The lip of Death turns speech to prophecy." So hath the parting hour its agony Of inspiration:
All our path with dew Was drenched that autumn morning; like a day Begun too soon, our Life before us lay In early chillness,—hard to live it through Without each other! slow our footsteps drew, And slower, to our bourne, because they knew They measured off the moments we must spend Together; we were silent—friend to friend Was near as yet; at last thou spakest low My name, and whispered, "Bless me ere I go!" Oh, then I sadly thought, but did not speak: How may I bless thee, I, oft proved so weak, So poor in blessing that I can but love, Nor even bless through loving? I will seek For that I cannot give. "May One above, Belovèd, love thee, keep thee, bless thee still!" I spake these words in sadness, but a flame Did sweep them from my lips; the next that came Was even as a Message,—"and He will!"