Poems (Terry, 1861)/Then

by Rose Terry Cooke

For works with similar titles, see Then.

THEN.

I give thee treasures hour by hour, That old-time princes asked in vain,And pined for in their useless power, Or died of passion's eager pain.

I give thee love as God gives light, Aside from merit or from prayer,Rejoicing in its own delight, And freer than the lavish air.

I give thee prayers like jewels strung On golden threads of hope and fear,And tenderer thoughts than ever hung In a sad angel's pitying tear.

As earth pours freely to the sea Its thousand streams of wealth untold,So flows my silent life to thee, Glad that its very sands are gold.

What care I for thy carelessness? I give from depths that overflow;Regardless that their power to bless Thy spirit cannot sound or know.

Far lingering on a distant dawn, My triumph shines, more sweet than late,When, from these mortal mists withdrawn, Thine heart shall know me,—I can wait.