Presage
IF, some day, I should seek those eyes
So gentle now, —and find the strange,
Pale shadow of a coming change,
To chill me with a sad surprise;
Shouldst thou recall what thou hast given,
And turn me slowly cold and dumb,
And thou thyself again become
Remote as any star in heaven;
Would the sky ever seem again
Perfectly clear? Would the serene,
Sweet face of nature steal between
This grief and me, to dull its pain?
Oh not for many a weary day
Would sorrow soften to regret,
And many a sun would rise and set
Ere I, with cheerful heart, could say:
“All undeserved it came. To-day,
God takes it back again, because
Too beautiful a thing it was
For such as I to keep for aye.”
And ever, through the coming years,
My star, remote in happy skies,
Would seem more heavenly fair through eyes
Yet tremulous with unfallen tears.
