Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/120

 And hierarchies of one Spirit whole. Our own true selves, alive in God, Call our lost selves to His abode, Halting along earth's dreary road. We are wildered in the gloom, Feel blind for one another here, In a phantom world of doom; Unfathomable gulfs of fear Sunder our numb human hearts; Faint feet slide upon the snow, While a drifting vapour parts, Nor others, nor ourselves we know: Thought, dissolved, reels to and fro, Stunned as from a mortal blow.

Ah! dearest darling, we have loved! None part who once indeed have met; But thou and I have never proved Love's eternal summer yet! And if the mortal spring be sweet, What will the immortal summer be? Only a while we may not meet, Maturing for eternity.

The garden is a wilderness; His little plot of flowers Fallen to weed, and tenantless The silent house! acacia bowers,