Part 4

Ah, they would have given Wealth, and home, and pride, To see her just look happy Once before she died!

They strove hard to please her, But, when death is near All you know is deadened, Hope, and joy, and fear.

And besides, one sorrow Deeper still--one pain Was beyond them: healing Came to-day--in vain!

If she had but lingered Just a few hours more; Or had this letter reached her Just one day before!

I can almost pity Even him to-day; Though he let this anguish Eat her heart away.

Yet she never blamed him:- One day you shall know How this sorrow happened; It was long ago.

I have read the letter: Many a weary year, For one word she hungered-- There are thousands here.

If she could but hear it, Could but understand; See--I put the letter In her cold white hand.

Even these words, so longed for, Do not stir her rest; Well--I should not murmur, For God judges best.

She needs no more pity,-- But I mourn his fate, When he hears his letter Came a day too late.

VERSE: THE REQUITAL

Loud roared the Tempest, Fast fell the sleet; A little Child Angel Passed down the street, With trailing pinions, And weary feet.

The moon was hidden; No stars were bright; So she could not shelter In heaven that night, For the Angels' ladders Are rays of light.

She beat her wings At each window pane, And pleaded for shelter, But all in vain:-- "Listen," they said, "To the pelting rain!"

She sobbed, as the laughter And mirth grew higher, "Give me rest and shelter Beside your fire, And I will give you Your heart's desire."

The dreamer sat watching His embers gleam, While his heart was floating Down hope's bright stream; . . . So he wove her wailing Into his dream.

The worker toiled on, For his time was brief; The mourner was nursing Her own pale grief: They heard not the promise That brought relief.

But fiercer the Tempest Rose than before, When the Angel paused At a humble door, And asked for shelter And help once more.

A weary woman, Pale, worn, and thin, With the brand upon her Of want and sin, Heard the Child Angel And took her in.

Took her in gently, And did her best To dry her pinions; And made her rest With tender pity Upon her breast.

When the eastern morning Grew bright and red, Up the first sunbeam The Angel fled; Having kissed the woman And left her--dead.

VERSE: RETURNED--"MISSING" (FIVE YEARS AFTER)

Yes, I was sad and anxious, But now, dear, I am gay; I know that it is wisest To put all hope away:- Thank God that I have done so And can be calm to-day.

For hope deferred--you know it, Once made my heart so sick: Now, I expect no longer; It is but the old trick Of hope, that makes me tremble, And makes my heart beat quick.

All day I sit here calmly; Not as I did before, Watching for one whose footstep Comes never, never more . . . Hush! was that someone passing, Who paused beside the door?

For years I hung on chances, Longing for just one word; At last I feel it:- silence Will never more be stirred . . . Tell me once more that rumour, You fancied you had heard.

Life has more things to dwell on Than just one useless pain, Useless and past for ever; But noble things remain, And wait us all: . . . you too, dear, Do you think hope quite vain?

All others have forgotten, 'Tis right I should forget, Nor live on a keen longing Which shadows forth regret: . . . Are not the letters coming? The sun is almost set.