Poetical Remains of the Late Mrs Hemans/The Wish
THE WISH.
Come to me, when my soul
Hath but a few dim hours to linger here;
When earthly chains are as a shrivell'd scroll,
Oh! let me feel thy presence! be but near!
That I may look once more
Into thine eyes, which never changed for me;
That I may speak to thee of that bright shore
Where, with our treasure, we have longed to be.
Thou friend of many days!
Of sadness and of joy, of home and hearth!
Will not thy spirit aid me then to raise
The trembling pinions of my hope from earth?
By every solemn thought
Which on our hearts hath sunk in days gone by,
From the deep voices of the mountains caught,
Or all th' adoring silence of the sky;
By every solemn theme
Wherein, in low-toned reverence we have spoken
By our communion in each fervent dream
That sought from realms beyond the grave a token;
And by our tears for those
Whose loss hath touch'd our world with hues of death;
And by the hopes that with their dust repose,
As flowers await the south-wind's vernal breath:
Come to me in that day—
The one—the sever'd from all days—O friend!
Even then, if human thought may then have sway,
My soul with thine shall yet rejoice to blend.
Nor then, nor there alone:
I ask my heart if all indeed must die;
All that of holiest feelings it hath known?
And my heart's voice replies—Eternity!