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 yetWas 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 illWith 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 beSo 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.