We take our pack, and jog our way again Towards the windy sunset and the night; The inn is now behind us, out of sight, Showing no welcome shine of windowpane, But dark and silent standing by the way As we go forward, seeing mile on mile Sink out of sight—just for a little while We rested, in the middle of the day. 

 Is there an end at last, and shall we reach, By the faint glimmer of new-risen stars, Our house at last, and find the heart-repose Which is the ultimate desire of each Poor traveller—ah! shall they drop the bars, And the doors open? Dear my friend, who knows? 

 

 

 "TO-DAY I MISS YOU" 

 To-day I miss you ... "Only for to-day, Some little matter of hours and nothing more." That at least the worldly-wise folk say, Who've never waited for the opening door, The greeting look, the known step on the floor; Who've never missed a loved one like a lover. 

 To-day I miss you. What to-morrow brings Is the other side of all the stars, God knows! Only to have you here, now evening swings Its quiet shadow round the globe again, And in our talk of old familiar things, And in familiar gestures, turn of brain, Looks, tone of voice, I may discern again That union from which alone love grows. 

 We'd close the curtains;—while the world outside, Noisily autumn, makes a sense of peace Deeper within,—open the bookcase wide And take a book out; then another book, And then another....  "Here's a favourite, look! We cannot pass him." ... Then from reading cease, Gossip and laugh, with finger in the page, And challenge thought with thought, and mind with mind Each speaking freely, that we might increase Some knowledge to which, singly, we were blind. 

 So goes the evening. Side by side we stand, Dear friends and brothers, till, a sudden pause, Or kindly, almost careless touch of hands, Swings us to face each other, and we feel Those deepest stirrings of the human heart Man has no name for yet, those changeless laws Of more than mating—that eternal part Our body is aware of, and our brain, Unchallenging with reason, must receive, That sense of intimate wonder!—Now again, The blinds are drawn; lamp, books, chairs, all retain Familiar aspects, but, you absent, leave The room all empty, empty all the day. 

 

 

 "HOW SMALL THE THREAD THAT HOLDS UP HAPPINESS" 

 Prev. P 24/29 next