Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/293

Rh And touch the draperies of imagined shapes

That hold the souls we love—that have gone forth

Into the land of shadows, but still live

In memory, O, most dear! Beguile our lives

With dim, half-fashioned phantoms of dead hours,

Lest the long way grow hateful; give us faith

Unreasoned, vague, unsubstanced, but still faith;

For faith is hope, and hope alone is life.

"EVEN WHEN JOY IS NEAR"