Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/179

Rh Upon its brow, that held me with new power;

A look of unknown beauty, a deep mood

Touched with a sorrow as of human kind.

II

I thought I knew full well my comrade's face,

But a new face it was to me this day.

She sat among the worshipers and heard

The preacher's voice, yet listened not, but leaned

Her head unto a tone whose accents fell

On her sweet spirit only. Deep the awe

Struck then upon me, for my friend no more

Seemed to be near, as with forgetting gaze,

And piteous features steeped in tenderness,

She thought on things unspeakable—unknown

To all the world beside.

III

When forth doth pass,

In holy pilgrimage and awful quest,

The soul of thy soul's comrade, thou must stand

In silence by, and let it move alone

And unattended far to the inner shrine;

Thou canst but wait, and bow thine head, and pray;

And well for thee if thou may'st prove so pure,—

Ended that hour,—thy comrade thou regain'st,

Thine as before, or even more deeply thine.

THE GIFT

I

came to me and spoke:

A palace for thee I have built

Wherein to take thy pleasure;

I have filled it with priceless treasure;