AN ANNIVERSARY.
Two years ago, this day, he died;
In silence to the grave he stole;
To many friends their joy and pride,—
To me the brother of my soul.
Then died their hopes and were not seen,
But still our love, it seems to me,
Survives, though something hangs between,—
A haze—a dim perplexity!
Perplexity that gathers still
Veil over veil, fold upon fold!
Like mists of rain about a lonely hill
Round me that cloud contracts or is unrolled.
Come often Intimations, as it were,
He still were somewhere dwelling on the earth;
Some look that of his beauty hath a share,
Some laugh that hath a sound of his delicious mirth!
ii.
I know thou art not lost;—I know
Christ keeps thee in a safer place,
And I at heart would have it so.
I murmur not. O soul above,
"Tis not my voice thou hearest groan;
'Tis sin that counterfeits my love,
I but for weakness moan.
But no, thou hast a finer ear,
And thou, I trust—'tis more than I dare say,
Discern'st the joyful spirit singing clear
Even in this miserable house of clay!
iii.
And old things flee and new arrive;
And still he lingers on the earth,—
My friend is still alive.
Or if sometimes he be not here,
Like flowerets of the Spring,
Soon doth his beauty reappear,
A renovated thing.
Kin to all love and nobleness,
All glory is his heir;
No deed to praise, no sight to bless
Comes out, but he is there.
Is he alive in truth, or dead and dull
And lost, for ever lost to mortal eye?
O friend, so noble and so beautiful
While earth is fair, to me thou canst not die!