Poems (Rowe)/Lux e Tenebris

by Louise Jopling Rowe

POEMS

LUX E TENEBRIS

DAY dies; and Night, its mourner,
 Wrapp'd in sombre robes of woe,
Enthrals us with the mystery
 Of her mission here below.

Filling our souls with yearning
 For a higher life than ours,
And crying still the warning
 That our stay is but of hours.

I listen to her teaching,
 And I rise to kiss her feet;
But from beside her, Memory
 Comes, and chains me to my seat.

Unbidden rise before me
 Mocking phantoms of the past:
They shiver me, they chill me
 With the shadows that they cast.

Why should thy face for ever
 Haunt and scare me with fierce eyes
Wild with the pain and mis'ry
 Of despair's unuttered cries?

I know I wrong'd thee living.
 Were thy death, too, at my door,
Thou, beholding my repentance—
 Even thou wouldst spare me more.

And for ever shall the Night
 Wipe with gentle hand the sign
Of the sin—and of the anguish—
 From every face but mine?

I shriek unto the heavens,
 And they send me back my cry;
The stars shine out and mock me
 As they hear me ask to die.

What can I do or suffer,
 What heavier burden bear?
To rid me of the presence
 Of the nameless terror there?

Of eyes that once gazed fondly
 Into mine, and found reply—
No, not those eyes—I know it—
 'Tis a friend's own mockery:

Yet I strive and struggle vainly
 'Gainst its influence and might.
Who will save me from the terror
 Of this silence and the night?

·····

Now, now, O God! I thank thee,
 Comes the brightness of the Day:
The hell-born shadows vanish,
 And my spirit dares to pray.