'Nicht darf ich dir zu gleichen mich vermessen.'— Goethe
I know not how to sing a song to-day—
Thou in the spirit, I within the clay.
Perchance it may be that these many years
In the wide universe of starry spheres
Have made thee all unfit to hear a strain
Sung by a mortal bound to mortal pain;
Yet would I deem the link that thou and I
Wove in our heart may still all time defy,
And wake when touch'd with a fraternal glow—
Thou far above, and I on earth below.
I dare not lift my purblind faith to thine,
Nor deem thy thoughts may still companion mine;
For I am yet of earthly things, but thou
Hast the eternal world upon thy brow,
And wearest in the glory of thine eyes
The hush and calm of the eternal skies,
While past and present and the things to be
Move from thy footsteps like a mighty sea,
And Love (another name for God) attends
Thy slightest wish, and like a rainbow bends
Clear and all radiant, since it hath no sin,
Above thy going out and coming in.
Methinks betimes that thou, so far above
The reach of human, though all-yearning love,
Hast naught in common with the things I seek,
Whose aims may place the blush upon thy cheek;
But when the daylight flies the breath of night,
And all the stars are crowding into light,
I sink in dreams that make the shadows shine
And bring thy spirit nearer unto mine.
Then, lo! I see thee, and again I trace
The cherish'd features of thy smiling face;
Once more we wander gladly hand in hand
Far down the sunshine of the past's sweet land;
Stand on the bank that girds the well-known lake,
And laugh to see the waves our shadows take;
Then plunge into the waving woods to view
Each fairy spot our prying childhood knew;
And I would clasp thee, for the summer day
Hath lifted up my soul, and I am gay.
But lo! ye sink and fade away, as fades
On the far hills the warm sweet summer shades,
And I am left alone to wake, and creep
Back to my human nature but to weep.
There be at times when all my heart grows chill,
And shakes as if beneath some pending ill,
That all its wishes waken up, and grow
Restless for something which is not below,
But pure, and all ethereal as a star
New lit in the night heaven clear and far;
Then think I in such moments, when I feel
These better glimpses o'er my being steal,
That it is thou, dear spirit, who on high
Still yearnest, with compassion in thine eye,
For thy frail link below, that yet remains
Bound to the rough, dull earth and all its pains—
So fain would lift me by thy faith and love
To all the sunshine crowning thee above.
How shall I reach thee? For, though wrapt in earth,
My aspirations claim a higher birth,
And yearn to mix with thine in that high clime
Where tears are never—neither death nor time.
Lo! that sweet faith which sprung from Him who came
To wear our human sympathy and name—
He who in Holy Land, 'mid many scorns,
Bore calmly on the cross His crown of thorns,
Then died that we might lean upon His might,
And be one with Him in eternal light.
Thus shall I reach thee; but, before I win
The higher bounds that keep thy spirit in,
I must wear out my pilgrimage of dust
In faith and love, and all the wider trust,
Knowing that many sorrows yet may come—
The fears that torture, doubts that speak though dumb,
Night-whisper'd yearnings, vain regrets, that gush
At strangely-chosen times, and the fond wish
That turns to gather what was bright and fair
In thy young life before the seal was there.
I will be patient, then, and with firm mind
Work out this life of mine, nor look behind,
Save but to gather strength from what I see
Of all the truth and love which was in thee,
Keeping such still within me as a trust
To lift me unto thee beyond the dust;
For I shall see thee, and this hope at last,
Falls balm-like on the sorrows that have past.
And, lo! the future widens out to me,
With all its pathways leading up to thee;
And so I bless thee till my very tears
Form rainbows brighter than when Summer rears
Her glistening clouds, and all the glory giv'n
Is but a link between this earth and heav'n,
Prone at its base I fall and bow my head,
As if in waiting for thy coming tread;
Then, when my heart is fit to be the guest,
For one short moment, of thy happy rest,
Pour down thy latest blessing upon me,
As from this earth I lift mine unto me.