You must come and see
My new home, and soon.--What was it you said?
Heartsick, and weary, and sad, and strange,--
Ashes and dust where swept the fire?
I am sorry for you, but I cannot change.--
Did you see that star fall from the Lyre?
A moment's gleam, and a deeper night
Closing around its wandering way:
But then there are other orbs as bright;
Let your incense burn to them, I pray.
Oh, conjure your mighty manhood up!
Let it blaze its best in your flashing eyes!
Can it stare my womanhood down, or hope
To scorch my pride till it droops and dies?--
There, do not be angry;--take my hand;
Forgive me;--I meant not anything:
I am foolish, and cannot understand
Why you throw life out for one dumb string.
Sweeter its music than all the rest?
It may be so, though I cannot tell;
But take the good when you lose the best,
And school yourself till it seems as well.
Love may pass by, but here is fame,
And wealth, and power;--when these are gone,
God is left,--and the altar-flame
May, brightening ever, burn on and on.
And yet to my heart at times there come
Tidings of lands I shall never see,
Sweet odors, and wooing winds, and hum
Of bees in the fields that are far from me,--
Far fields, and skies that are always fair;
And I dream the old dreams of heaven, and you.
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