Littell's Living Age/Volume 134/Issue 1733/Regained

by Alexander Hay Japp

REGAINED.

I.

Like the notes that stir and die
⁠When a harp-string snaps in twain;
Like a fading sunset-sky
⁠After driving wind and rain;
Like a sound within a shell,
⁠Like an odor on the air,
Like an echo in a dell,
⁠Like a star, remote and fair,
O, my child, thou art to me!
⁠And thy soul is linked to mine,
As the pale moon draws the sea
⁠Or the sun lifts up the vine.

II.

In the passion of my tears,
⁠In the blindness of my grief,
Through the melancholy years
⁠I eschewed the sweet relief;
And I stretched my yearning hands
⁠Through the dark, to clasp thee near, —
But to bind me in the bands
⁠Of an ever-haunting fear.
I smiled on those beside me,
⁠And deemed I did thee wrong,
And dreamt thou mightst deride me
⁠For sharing joy or song.

III.

Now, thy face comes back to me,
⁠All free from tear or stain:
A brighter image of thyself,
⁠Triumphant over pain.
I sought it not, for heedless,
⁠I nursed my own despair;
And so I hold it likeness
⁠Of reality, most fair:
No picture could unfold it
⁠To any stranger's eye;
'Tis like a starlet shining
⁠Within a winter sky.

⁠Good Words.E. Conder Gray.