Page:Poems Barrett.djvu/291

Bring your vain answers—cry, "We think of thee!"
How think ye of her? warm in long ago
Delights?—or crowned with budding hays? Not so.
None smile and none are crowned where lieth she,—
With all her visions unfulfilled, save one—
Her childhood's—of the palm-trees in the sun—
And lo! their shadow on her sepulchre!

"Do ye think of me as I think of you?"—
O friends,—O kindred,—O dear brotherhood
Of all the world! what are we, that we should
For covenants of long affection sue?
Why press so near each other, when the touch
Is barred by graves? Not much, and yet too much,
Is this "Think of me as I think of you."

But while on mortal lips I shape anew
A sigh to mortal issues,—verily
Above the unshaken stars that see us die
A vocal pathos rolls! and He who drew
All life from dust, and for all, tasted death,
By death and life and love, appealing, saith,
Do you think of Me as I think of you?

The House of Clouds.

I would build a cloudy House
 For my thoughts to live in;
When for earth too fancy-loose,
 And too low for Heaven!
Hush! I talk my dream aloud—
 I build it bright to see,—
Build it on the moonlit cloud,
 To which I looked with thee.