If blessings could be compassed by my prayer,
High heaven should set star-gems in thy hair.
THE DECREE
Last night I saw the warm white Southern moon
Sail upward through a smoky amber sea;
Orion stood in silver majesty
Where the gold-girdled sun takes rest at noon.
I slept; I dreamed. Against a sunset sky
I saw thee stand all garmented in white;
With hand stretched to me, and there in thy sight
I went to meet thee; but I heard thee cry:
"We stand apart as sun from shining sun;
Thou hast thy place; there rolleth far and near
A sea between; until life's all be done
Thou canst not come, nor I go to thee, dear."
Methought I bowed my head to thy decree,
And donned the mantle of my misery.
'TIS MORNING NOW
'Tis morning now, and dreams and fears are gone,
And sleep has calmed the fever in my veins,
And I am strong to drink the cup that drains
The last drop through my lips, and make no moan.
Strength I have borrowed from the outward show
Of spiritual puissance thou dost wear.
Shall I not thy high domination share
Over the shock of feeling? Shall I grow
More fearful than the soldier, when between
The smoke of hostile cannon lies his way;
To carry far the colours of his queen,
While her bright eyes behold him in the fray?
Here do I smile between the warring hosts
Of sad farewells; and reek not what it costs.
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