Poems (Procter)/Returned—"Missing"

by Adelaide Anne Procter

RETURNED—"MISSING." (FIVE YEARS AFTER.)

ES, I was sad and anxious,
 But now, dear, I am gay;
I know that it is wisest
 To put all hope away:—
Thank God that I have done so,
 And can be calm to-day!

For hope deferred—you know it—
 Once made my heart so sick:
Now, I expect no longer;
 It is but the old trick
Of hope, that makes me tremble,
 And makes my heart beat quick.

All day I sit here calmly;
 Not as I did before,
Watching for one whose footstep
 Comes never, never more. . . .
Hush! was that some one passing,
 Who paused beside the door?

For years I hung on chances,
 Longing for just one word;
At last I feel it:—silence
 Will never more be stirred . . .
Tell me once more that rumor
 You fancied you had heard.

Life has more things to dwell on.
 Than just one useless pain,
Useless and past forever;
 But noble things remain,
And wait us all: . . . you too, dear,
 Do you think hope quite vain?

All others have forgotten,
 'T is right I should forget,
Nor live on a keen longing
 Which shadows forth regret: . . .
Are not the letters coming?
 The sun is almost set.

Now that my restless legion
 Of hopes and fears is fled,
Reading is joy and comfort. . . .
 . . . This very day I read,
O, such a strange returning
 Of one whom all thought dead?

Not that I dream or fancy,
 You know all that is past;
Earth has no hope to give me,
 And yet—Time flies so fast
That all but the impossible
 Might be brought back at last.