Poems (Greenwell)/Meeting
MEETING.
Oh, how elate my look,—
Far down the thronged and lighted table sent
Upon a careless quest indifferent,—
Met thine in mirthful flashing! Then we took
Our leave together, and, like boys released
By the glad stroke of Noonday, from the feast
Went home beneath the star-light. Oh, that night,
How shall I e'er forget it! At a bound
My spirit rose, a river that had found
Its level on a sudden; forth in chase
Quick vagrant fancies rushed as in a race,
Unemulous and glad; while at the light
Of those wild torch-fires solemn thoughts and deep
Enkindled clear, as on a northern sky,
Through Borealis gleams that flash and leap,
The stars look down. What was that hour to me!
What is it now! My soul hath been more free,
More noble, since that meeting; to the laws
Of this strange country for awhile in pause
Content to hold my breath; with step more bold
Because my wings have grown, I walk these old
Accustomed pathways.
Earnest Friend, thy youth
Of soul makes all things fresher; in thy truth
Grows all more true, more real; come and hold
Thy mirror to my soul, that I may be
The more myself for having been with thee!
Far down the thronged and lighted table sent
Upon a careless quest indifferent,—
Met thine in mirthful flashing! Then we took
Our leave together, and, like boys released
By the glad stroke of Noonday, from the feast
Went home beneath the star-light. Oh, that night,
How shall I e'er forget it! At a bound
My spirit rose, a river that had found
Its level on a sudden; forth in chase
Quick vagrant fancies rushed as in a race,
Unemulous and glad; while at the light
Of those wild torch-fires solemn thoughts and deep
Enkindled clear, as on a northern sky,
Through Borealis gleams that flash and leap,
The stars look down. What was that hour to me!
What is it now! My soul hath been more free,
More noble, since that meeting; to the laws
Of this strange country for awhile in pause
Content to hold my breath; with step more bold
Because my wings have grown, I walk these old
Accustomed pathways.
Earnest Friend, thy youth
Of soul makes all things fresher; in thy truth
Grows all more true, more real; come and hold
Thy mirror to my soul, that I may be
The more myself for having been with thee!