  O OH, blue and glad the summer skies, And golden green the widths of plain Where sun and shadow mingled lay, As forth we went, with gay intent, Across the Mesa’s flowery rise, To where the shimmering mountain chain Beckoned and shone from far away! The noontide flashed, the noontide sang, Along the glittering distant track; The dancing wind made answer brave. It seemed that all kept festival, That joy fires burned and joy bells rang; But still our hearts went hovering back To sit beside one lonely grave. It seems so strange, so half unkind, That still the earth with life should stir, That still we smile, and still we jest. And drink our share of sun and air And joy—and leave her there behind; Nor share such happy things with her Who always gave us all her best! And yet—our love is loyal still; And yet—she joyed to have us gay; And yet—the moving world moves on, And does not wait our sad estate, To soothe our hurt or note our ill, But, touch by touch, and day by day, Heals us, and changes every one. But she? What is her work to do? For never tell me that she lies Inactive, lifeless, in the mould, Content to keep a moveless sleep While worlds revolve in courses new. Her fiery zeal, her quick emprise, Could never brook such rest to hold! That grave but hides her worn-out dress,— One of God’s sure-winged messengers I see her, on swift errand sped, Glad of the task which strong souls ask, Earth’s sharpest pain grown littleness In the new tide of life made hers, Smiling that we should call her dead! Smile on, dear Heart, until the dawn! When once the eternal heights are bared, And the long earthly shadows flit, And with clear eyes we front the skies, We too shall smile with heavenly scorn At the dull, human selves who dared To call life “Death” and pity it! |
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