Poems (Odom)/Two Loves
For works with similar titles, see Two Loves.
TWO LOVES.
Forgive me, O my darling! If the love has seemed to paleThat I once so fondly pledged you At the low white altar rail.I look upon my finger Wearing still the wedding-ringThat you fondly placed upon it When my love had crowned you king.
And sweeping back the shadows Of the intervening years,I bow my head upon it In an agony of tears.God has lifted you, my dear one, Far above my warm embrace;I have seen the light of heaven Resting on your peaceful face;
I have watched the mortal chalice Break within your failing hands; Knelt beside you when your spirit Glided from its mortal bands;Felt the faint, despairing kisses Of your swiftly waning life;And caught the last sweet whisper Of those precious words: "My wife."
I have held our little children To my lonely, aching breast,Praying God to give us shelter— Just a quiet place of rest.But the world is cold and careless Of the living and the dead;Though I bore my burden bravely, I could scarcely earn our bread.
My slender form grew faint, dear, Beneath the toil and pain;My cheeks were pallid with the tears That fell like bitter rain,The way grew dark and darker still Before my weary feet,Until my bowed and broken heart Had almost ceased to beat.
And then there fell across my path A trembling ray of light,A tiny rift within the cloud, A single star of night,And one, who like myself had borne In tears the chastening cross,Whose heart in desolation mourned Its greatest earthly loss,
Came to me when my very soul Was faint and longed for rest,And gave my weary, aching head The shelter of his breast.He read within his lonely heart The grief that clouded mine;We both had wept an idol lost Before a darkened shrine.
And while the early loves of youth Still brightly glowed the same,Beside them rose within each heart Another fresher flame;Less warm perchance, perhaps less bright, But steady, strong, and true As ever woman gave to man, Or man for woman knew.
The seasons of this fleeting life In turn their tributes bring,And autumn flowers often bloom As fair as those of spring;Sometimes their very lateness gives Their bloom a softer glow,Like beams of golden sunset on A closing day of snow.
If, from your fair, celestial home, My dear one, you can seeAnother walk beside me in The path you walked with me;If I should lean my weary head On his protecting breast,I know it cannot trouble, dear, Your sweet, eternal rest.
Your place, my darling, still is yours, And still I wear your ring, And hold your image in my heart A sacred, holy thing;And he, who would so tenderly Lift up my broken life,Is faithful still in memory To his immortal wife.