Poems (Greenwell)/To a Long-parted Friend (Thou comest back unto me like a ghost)
TO A LONG-PARTED FRIEND.
Thou comest back unto me like a ghost; And all the years that have been buried long In silence, at thy aspect, crowd and throng Each portal of my mind—a Phantom host. Now will we commune with that cloud-like train Awhile, then send them to their rest again; For all their forms are pale and colourless; Not from their full Joy-vintage could we press The wealth of this day's gleanings! nay, the woes That we have known since then have nobler shows. And all their "more" sounds feebler than our "less."
We parted in the blossom and the bud, Now in the bloom-time of Life's perfect Rose We meet; and though it may not yet unclose Each petal, for that earth lies ever cold About its roots, and in their conflict rude, Rough, biting winds have bowed its head, and strewed Some leaves upon the ground; yet hath it won From shower and shining, from the moulds and sun Deep colours, odours richer than of old!
The rocks that lock the Vale's monotonyIn quiet, once our mutual vision spanned;Since then by distant pathways, painfullyWe have been climbing both, now hand-in-handTogether on the steep ascent we stand,And see the spot where then we parted lieBeneath us like a speck; now through the haze,Disparting for a moment, we will gazeDown on the Alpine hamlet, till we hearIts songs and sheepfold tinklings rising clear,Then lift an upward heaven-aspiring eyeTogether, ere our tracks break suddenly,And we go onwards through the cloud and mistAlone, yet cheerful! on the Hill, dear Friend,Ere evening-light its cold white brow hath kissed,Tingeing its snows with rose and amethyst,Once more those far-diverging lines may blend!