“I had knelt, in the awful Presence, And covered my guilty head, And received His absolution, For my sins toward the dead.” “Now first I dare remember That day of death and woe: Within, the dreadful silence, Without, the sun and snow.” ... “When wild azaleas deck the knoll, And cinque-foil stars the fields of home, And winds, that take the white-weed, roll The meadows into foam: Then from the jubilee I turn To other Mays that I have seen, Where more resplendent blossoms burn, And statelier woods are green;— Mays, when my heart expanded first, A honeyed blossom, fresh with dew; And one sweet wind of heaven dispersed The only clouds I knew. For she, whose softly-murmured name The music of the month expressed, Walked by my side, in holy shame Of girlish love confessed.” “The old, old tale of girl and boy, Repeated ever, never old: To each in turn the gates of joy, The gates of heaven unfold.” ... “So I think, when days are sweetest, And the world is wholly fair, She may sometime steal upon me Through the dimness of the air, With the cross upon her bosom And the amaranth in her hair. Once to meet her, ah! to meet her, And to hold her gently fast Till I blessed her, till she blessed me,— That were happiness, at last: That were bliss beyond our meetings In the autumns of the Past!” ... “Still, still that lovely ghost appears, Too fair, too pure, to bid depart; No riper love of later years Can steal its beauty from the heart.” “Dear, boyish heart that trembled so With bashful fear and fond unrest,— More frightened than a dove, to know Another bird within its nest!” ... “Restored and comforted, I go To grapple with my tasks again; Through silent worship taught to know The blessed peace that follows pain.” ... “If Love should come again, I ask my heart In tender tremors, not unmixed with pain, Couldst thou be calm, nor feel thine ancient smart, If Love should come again?” “Couldst thou unbar the chambers where his nest So long was made, and made, alas! in vain, Nor with embarrassed welcome chill thy guest, If Love should come again?” ... “Have I passed through Death’s unconscious birth, In a dream the midnight bare? I look on another and fairer Earth: I breathe a wondrous air!” “Is it she that shines, as never before, The tremulous hills above,— Or the heart within me, awake once more To the dawning light of love?” “Bathed in the morning, let my heart surrender The doubts that darkness gave, And rise to meet the advancing splendor— O Night! no more thy slave.” ... “One thought sits brooding in my bosom, As broodeth in her nest the dove; A strange, delicious doubt o’ercomes me,— But is it love?”