The Awakening

So it has come to you, dear,
Come so soon !
Come in the sunshine early,
Come in the morning pearly,
Not in the blaze of noon.

Yes, it has come to you, dear,
Strange and sweet ;
Come ere the merry May-time
Melts to the glowing hay-time,
Hushed in the sultry heat.

Come — with mysterious shadow,
Weird and new, —
Come with a magic lustre
Hung on the shining cluster
Ripening fast for you.

Come ! and the exquisite minor,
Rich and deep,
Swells with Æolian blending
Chords of the spirit, ending
Boyhood's enchanted sleep.

Sleep that is past for ever !
Is it gain ?
What does the waking seem like ?
Love that is only dream-like
Sings not a truthful strain.

Hearts that have roused and listened
Never more,
(Though they may miss the crossed tones,
Though they may mourn the lost tones,)
Sleep as they slept before.

Come ! and the great transition
Now is past !
Never again the boy-life,
Only the pain — and joy-life,
More of the first than last.

Come ! and they do not guess it,
Why such a change !
Why should the mirth and riot
Tone into manly quiet !
Is it not passing strange ?

Come ! 'Tis a night of wonder
At this call
Characters cabalistic,
Writings all dim and mystic
Tremble upon the wall.

Come ! am I glad or sorry ?
Wait and see !
Wait for God's silent moulding,
Wait for His full unfolding,
Wait for the days to be.