What regrets, what longings for the lost were theirs I
And what prayers
For the silent strength that nerves us to endure
Things we cannot cure!
Pacing up and down the garden where they paced,
I have traced
All their well-worn paths of patience, till I find
Comfort in my mind.
Faint and far away their ancient griefs appear:
Yet how near
Is the tender voice, the careworn, kindly face,
Of the human race!
Let us walk together in the garden, dearest heart,--
Not apart!
They who know the sorrows other lives have known
Never walk alone.
October, 1903.
THE MESSAGE
Waking from tender sleep,
My neighbour's little child
Put out his baby hand to me,
Looked in my face, and smiled.
It seems as if he came
Home from a happy land,
To bring a message to my heart
And make me understand.
Somewhere, among bright dreams,
A child that once was mine
Has whispered wordless love to him,
And given him a sign.
Comfort of kindly speech,
And counsel of the wise,
Have helped me less than what I read
In those deep-smiling eyes.
Pages:
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157