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THE WISH.
207
By every solemn thought
Which on our hearts hath sunk in days gone by,
From the deep voices of the mountains caught,
Or all th' adoring silence of the sky;
By every solemn theme
Wherein, in low-toned reverence we have spoken
By our communion in each fervent dream
That sought from realms beyond the grave a token;
And by our tears for those
Whose loss hath touch'd our world with hues of death;
And by the hopes that with their dust repose,
As flowers await the south-wind's vernal breath:
Come to me in that day—
The one—the sever'd from all days—O friend!
Even then, if human thought may then have sway,
My soul with thine shall yet rejoice to blend.
