Poems (Jackson)/At Last

by Helen Hunt Jackson

For works with similar titles, see At Last.

AT LAST.

THE years I lost before I knew you,
      Love!
O, the hills I climbed and came not to you,
          Love!
Ah! who shall render unto us to make
      Us glad,
The things which for and of each other's sake
      We might have had?

If you and I had sat and played together,
      Love,
Two speechless babies in the summer weather,
      Love,
By one sweet brook which, though it dried up long
      Ago,
Still makes for me to-day a sweeter song
      Than all I know,—

If hand in hand through the mysterious gateway,
      Love,
Of womanhood, we had first looked and straightway,
      Love,
Had whispered to each other softly, ere
      It yet
Was dawn, what now in noonday heat and fear
      We both forget,—

If all of this had given its completeness,
      Love,
To every hour would it be added sweetness,
      Love?
Could I know sooner whether it were well
      Or ill
With thee? One wish could I more surely tell,
      More swift fulfil?

Ah! vainly thus I sit and dream and ponder,
      Love,
Losing the precious present while I wonder,
      Love,
About the days in which you grew and came
      To be
So beautiful, and did not know the name
      Or sight of me.

But all lost things are in the angels' keeping,
      Love;
No past is dead for us, but only sleeping,
      Love;
The years of Heaven will all earth's little pain
      Make good,
Together there we can begin again
      In babyhood.