By Way of Remembrance

Remember, if I claim too much of you,
I claim it of my brother and my friend:

Have patience with me till the hidden end --
Bitter or sweet, in mercy shut from view.
Pay me my due; though I to pay your due

Am all too poor, and past what will can mend:
Thus of your bounty you must give and lend,
Still unrepaid by aught I look to do.
Still unrepaid by aught of mine on earth:

But overpaid, please God, when recompense
Beyond the mystic Jordan and new birth
Is dealt to virtue as to innocence;
When Angels singing praises in their mirth

Have borne you in their arms and fetched you hence.
Will you be there? my yearning heart has cried:
Ah me, my love, my love, shall I be there.
To sit down in your glory and to share

Your gladness, glowing as a virgin bride?
Or will another dearer, fairer-eyed.
Sit nigher to you in your jubilee.
And mindful one of other will you be

Borne higher and higher on joy's ebbless tide?
Yea, if I love I will not grudge you this:
I too shall float upon that heavenly sea

And sing my joyful praises without ache;
Your overflow of joy shall gladden me,
My whole heart shall sing praises for your sake,
And find its own fulfilment in your bliss.

In Resurrection is it awfuller
That rising of the All or of the Each --

Of all kins, of all nations, of all speech,
Or one by one of him and him and her?
When dust reanimate begins to stir

Here, there, beyond, beyond, reach beyond reach;
While every wave disgorges on its beach,
Alive or dead-in-life, some seafarer.
In Resurrection, on the day of days,

That day of mourning throughout all the earth,
In Resurrection may we meet again:
Xo more with stricken hearts to part in twain;

As once in sorrow one, now one in mirth.
One in our resurrection-songs of praise.

I love you and you know it -- this at least,
This comfort is mine own in all my pain:
You know it, and can never doubt again,
And love's mere self is a continual feast:
Not oath of mine nor blessing-word of priest

Could make my love more certain or more plain.
Life as a rolling moon doth wax and wane -- •
O weary moon, still rounding, still decreased I
Life wanes: and when Love folds his wings above

Tired joy, and less we feel his conscious pulse,
Let us go fall asleep, dear Friend, in peace; --
A little while, and age and sorrow cease;

A little while, and love reborn annuls
Loss and decay and death -- and all is love.