Poems (Hazlett-Bevis)/If You were Here
Your hand takes mine the same old way,
I feel your heart beat near it;
I look into your eyes and say,
"Father, mother, brother, child,"
(Whoever it may be)
"Let thy presence, true and mild,
Stay near, to whisper me,
Lest I regret again,
And Time bring back to me,
The same old mournful strain,
To linger through Eternity."
If You were Here.
If you were here to-day,
And I could take your hand in mine,
And look into your eyes and say,
"Forgive me, dear," I know that heart of thine
Would all respond, too gladly;
Though words I may have said
Had shaken your brave spirit sadly,
Your hand would rest upon my head,
In nought but earnest kindness;
Your gentle voice and dainty tread,
Would waft away my blindness,
And I would not have mourned thee—dead.
And I could take your hand in mine,
And look into your eyes and say,
"Forgive me, dear," I know that heart of thine
Would all respond, too gladly;
Though words I may have said
Had shaken your brave spirit sadly,
Your hand would rest upon my head,
In nought but earnest kindness;
Your gentle voice and dainty tread,
Would waft away my blindness,
And I would not have mourned thee—dead.
I gaze into your sad, sweet eyes,
In pictured form; and wonder
How chasms yawn, and walls arise
'Twixt those whom nought should sunder.
Strange, when friends are few,
And purest love a dainty rare,
We'll not prove true—
That with a fixed and vacant stare
We look away in cold pretense,
"It is all right," "we do not care,"
When every heart beat, hot and tense,
Denies the charge—laid bare.
In pictured form; and wonder
How chasms yawn, and walls arise
'Twixt those whom nought should sunder.
Strange, when friends are few,
And purest love a dainty rare,
We'll not prove true—
That with a fixed and vacant stare
We look away in cold pretense,
"It is all right," "we do not care,"
When every heart beat, hot and tense,
Denies the charge—laid bare.
Grim "paper walls" of sternest doubt,
Willful, we misunderstand;
And yet, the enemy to rout,
May simply need my wave of hand;
A sunny smile, a little thing,
A power—a perfect talisman,
To ward away, as birds of wing,
The noisome vapors of earth's ban.
Oh, when memory bears set pallid lips,
When waxen hands lie limp and low
Beneath a sodden mound, there sips
Remorse, who dines at courts of woe,
Willful, we misunderstand;
And yet, the enemy to rout,
May simply need my wave of hand;
A sunny smile, a little thing,
A power—a perfect talisman,
To ward away, as birds of wing,
The noisome vapors of earth's ban.
Oh, when memory bears set pallid lips,
When waxen hands lie limp and low
Beneath a sodden mound, there sips
Remorse, who dines at courts of woe,
And gluts himself on misery.
If we had only known!
But 'tis not given us here to see,
Till later days have flown;
And yet we know, as know we must.
You dear, dear dead, if you could speak.
Would clasp our hands in perfect trust,
And whisper with white lips, and meek.
"I do, forgive, as He forgives."
Believing this, tho' heart is sore,
We courage take, for still there lives
The sentiment feeling o'er and o'er.
That you are here in spirit; If we had only known!
But 'tis not given us here to see,
Till later days have flown;
And yet we know, as know we must.
You dear, dear dead, if you could speak.
Would clasp our hands in perfect trust,
And whisper with white lips, and meek.
"I do, forgive, as He forgives."
Believing this, tho' heart is sore,
We courage take, for still there lives
The sentiment feeling o'er and o'er.
Your hand takes mine the same old way,
I feel your heart beat near it;
I look into your eyes and say,
"Father, mother, brother, child,"
(Whoever it may be)
"Let thy presence, true and mild,
Stay near, to whisper me,
Lest I regret again,
And Time bring back to me,
The same old mournful strain,
To linger through Eternity."