To One Departed

I.

This life, Dear Heart, seems all so small and mean
Since thou art gone,--its prizes vague and vain,
Its efforts fruitless and its glories lean,
And all its heaped-up treasures worthless gain!

II.

Amid them all my slow feet wander lone,--
My heart cries hopeless for its perfect mate;
The fancies murmur and the longings moan
For thee whose absence leaves me desolate.

III.

Yet, somewhere, somehow, in the years that shine
With God's perfected wisdom throned above,
I know thou wait'st my coming, with divine
Enraptured welcomes of supremest love.

IV.

The Vision beckons, and I fix my gaze
Unchanging to the promise of the skies:
The full fruition of these lonely days
Dwells in the heaven of thine angel eyes!

V.

What matter, Dear, though dullard thousands throng
And jostle rudely at Life's holy feast?
The dull ears hear no tender strains of Song,
And they that know Love best know Love the least.

VI.

And still with yearning hands that longing grope
And straining eyes that search to pierce the doom,
I creep the path-ways of my only Hope,
And seek the Loved One passed beyond the Gloom!