WHEN first we met, beloved, rememberest thou
How all my nature was athirst and faint?
My soul's high powers lay wasting still and slow,
While my sad heart sighed forth its ceaseless plaint.

For frowning pride life's summer waves did lock
Away from light, — their restless murmuring hushed;
But thou didst smite the cold, defying rock,
And full and fast the living waters gushed!

O, what a summer glory life put on!
What morning freshness those swift waters gave,
That leaped from darkness forth into the sun,
And mirrored heaven in every smallest wave!
* * * * *

The cloud that darkened long our sky of love,
And flung a shadow o'er life's Eden bloom,
Hath deepened into night, around, above, —
But night beneficent and void of gloom, —

The dews of peace and faith's sweet quiet bringing,
And memory's starlight, as joy's sunlight fades,
While, like the nightingale's melodious singing,
The voice of Hope steals out amid the shades.

Now it hath come and gone, the shadowed day,
The time of farewells that beheld us part,
I miss thy presence from my side alway, —
Thy smile's sweet comfort raining on my heart.

Yes, we are parted. Now I call thy name,
And listen long, but no dear voice replies:
I miss thine earnest praise, thy gentle blame,
And the mute blessing of thy loving eyes.

Yet no, not parted. Still in life and power
Thy spirit cometh over wild and wave,
Is ever near me in the trial-hour,
A ready help, a presence strong and brave.

Thy love breathes o'er me in the winds of heaven,
Floats to me on the tides of morning light,
Descends upon me in the calms of even,
And fills with music all the dreamy night.

It falleth as a robe of pride around me,
A royal vesture rich. with purple gleams, —
It is the glory wherewith life hath crowned me,
The large fulfilment of my soul's long dreams!

It is a pæan drowning notes of sadness,
It is a great light shutting out all gloom,
It is a fountain of perpetual gladness,
It is a garden of perpetual bloom.

But to thy nature pride and power belong,
And death-defying courage; what to thee,
With thy great life, thy spirit high and strong,
May my one love in all its fulness be?

An inward joy, sharp e'en to pain, yet dear
As thy soul's life, — a warmth, a light serene, —
A low, deep voice which none save thou may hear, —
A living presence, constant, though unseen.

Yet shalt thou fold it closer to thy breast,
In the dark days, when other loves depart,
And when thou liest down for the long rest,
Then, O beloved, 't will sleep upon thy heart!