Page:Impressions- A Book of Verse.djvu/38

 HER LETTER ON HEARING HIM ILL SPOKEN OF

THOUGHT you of a grander make Than Nature fashioned you; I built your image in my heart More large, more bold, more true.

I held you to the higher aim And wearied thus your soul, Nor knew your timid heart preferred A lower, easier goal.

The mountain-tops were not for you The valley small was best; Who upwards struggle towards the heights Must ever know unrest.

Now you are smiling, smooth, content And easily forget The mountain-tops your bleeding feet Trod long ago,—and yet!

Sometimes a long-forgotten thrill Wakes 'neath the solemn stars, Your valley small a prison is Though flowers conceal its bars.—

The quiet midnight speaks to you, You draw a sobbing breath! You'll climb once more those star-crowned heights The other side of death!