Poems (Greenwell)/To a Long-parted Friend (Thou comest back unto me like a ghost)

by Dora Greenwell

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 monotony
In quiet, once our mutual vision spanned;
Since then by distant pathways, painfully
We have been climbing both, now hand-in-hand
Together on the steep ascent we stand,
And see the spot where then we parted lie
Beneath us like a speck; now through the haze,
Disparting for a moment, we will gaze
Down on the Alpine hamlet, till we hear
Its songs and sheepfold tinklings rising clear,
Then lift an upward heaven-aspiring eye
Together, ere our tracks break suddenly,
And we go onwards through the cloud and mist
Alone, 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!