Legends and Lyrics Volume Ii Part 12

Not broken by despair, Because I see the grave is bright, And death itself is fair-- I dread no more the wrath of Heaven-- I have an angel there!

VERSE: A LETTER

Dear, I tried to write you such a letter As would tell you all my heart to-day.

Written Love is poor; one word were better; Easier, too, a thousand times, to say.

I can tell you all: fears, doubts unheeding, While I can be near you, hold your hand, Looking right into your eyes, and reading Rea.s.surance that you understand.

Yet I wrote it through, then lingered, thinking Of its reaching you,--what hour, what day; Till I felt my heart and courage sinking With a strange, new, wondering dismay.

"Will my letter fall," I wondered sadly, "On her mood like some discordant tone, Or be welcomed tenderly and gladly?

Will she be with others, or alone?

"It may find her too absorbed to read it, Save with hurried glance and careless air: Sad and weary, she may scarcely heed it; Gay and happy, she may hardly care.

"Shall I--dare I--risk the chances?" slowly Something,--was it shyness, love, or pride?-- Chilled my heart, and checked my courage wholly; So I laid it wistfully aside.

Then I leant against the cas.e.m.e.nt, turning Tearful eyes towards the far-off west, Where the golden evening light was burning, Till my heart throbbed back again to rest.

And I thought: "Love's soul is not in fetters, Neither s.p.a.ce nor time keep souls apart; Since I cannot--dare not--send my letters, Through the silence I will send my heart.

"If, perhaps now, while my tears are falling, She is dreaming quietly alone, She will hear my Love's far echo calling, Feel my spirit drawing near her own.

"She will hear, while twilight shades enfold her, All the gathered Love she knows so well-- Deepest Love my words have ever told her, Deeper still--all I could never tell.

"Wondering at the strange mysterious power That has touched her heart, then she will say:- 'Some one whom I love, this very hour, Thinks of me, and loves me, far away.'

"If, as well may be, to-night has found her Full of other thoughts, with others by, Through the words and claims that gather round her She will hear just one, half-smothered sigh;

"Or will marvel why, without her seeking, Suddenly the thought of me recurs; Or, while listening to another speaking, Fancy that my hand is holding hers."

So I dreamed, and watched the stars' far splendour Glimmering on the azure darkness, start,-- While the star of trust rose bright and tender, Through the twilight shadows of my heart.

VERSE: A COMFORTER

I.

Will she come to me, little Effie, Will she come in my arms to rest, And nestle her head on my shoulder, While the sun goes down in the west?

II.

"I and Effie will sit together, All alone, in this great arm-chair:- Is it silly to mind it, darling, When Life is so hard to bear?

III.

"No one comforts me like my Effie, Just I think that she does not try,-- Only looks with a wistful wonder Why grown people should ever cry;

IV.

"While her little soft arms close tighter Round my neck in their clinging hold:- Well, I must not cry on your hair, dear, For my tears might tarnish the gold.

V.

"I am tired of trying to read, dear; It is worse to talk and seem gay: There are some kinds of sorrow, Effie, It is useless to thrust away.

VI.

"Ah, advice may be wise, my darling, But one always knows it before; And the reasoning down one's sorrow Seems to make one suffer the more.

VII.

"But my Effie won't reason, will she?

Or endeavour to understand; Only holds up her mouth to kiss me, As she strokes my face with her hand.

VIII.

"If you break your plaything yourself, dear, Don't you cry for it all the same?

I don't think it is such a comfort, One has only oneself to blame.

IX.

"People say things cannot be helped, dear, But then that is the reason why; For if things could be helped or altered, One would never sit down to cry:

X.

"They say, too, that tears are quite useless To undo, amend, or restore,-- When I think how useless, my Effie, Then my tears only fall the more.

XI.

"All to-day I struggled against it; But that does not make sorrow cease; And now, dear, it is such a comfort To be able to cry in peace.

XII.

"Though wise people would call that folly, And remonstrate with grave surprise; We won't mind what they say, my Effie;-- We never professed to be wise.

"But my comforter knows a lesson Wiser, truer than all the rest:- That to help and to heal a sorrow, Love and silence are always best.

XIV.

"Well, who is my comforter--tell me?

Effie smiles, but she will not speak; Or look up through the long curled lashes That are shading her rosy cheek.