From The Libertarian Labyrinth
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(To Dyer D. Lum, my friend and teacher, who died April 6, 1883.)
- Great silent heart! These barren drops of grief
- Are not for you, attained unto your rest;
- This sterile salt upon the withered leaf
- Of love, is mine—mine the dark burial guest.
- Far, far within that deep, untroubled sea
- We watched together, walking on the sands.
- Your soul has melted,—painless, silent, free;
- Mine the wrung heart, mine the clasped, useless hands.
Into the whirl of life, where none remember,
- I bear your image, ever unforgot;
- The "Whip-poor-will," still "wailing in December,"
- Cries the same cry—cries, cries, and ceases not
- The future years with all their waves of faces
- Roll shoreward singing the great undertone;
- Yours is not there;—in the old, well-loved places
- I look, and pass, and watch the sea alone.
- Alone along the gleaming, white sea-shore,
- The sea-spume spraying thick around my head,
- Through all the beat of waves and winds that roar,
- I go, remembering that you are dead.
- That you are dead, and nowhere is there one
- Like unto you;—and nowhere Love leaps Death ;—
- And nowhere may the broken race be run;—
- Nowhere unsealed the seal that none gainsaith.
- Yet in my ear that deep, sweet undertone
- Grows deeper, sweeter, solemner to me,—
- Dreaming your dreams, watching the light that shone
- So whitely to you, yonder, on the sea.
- Your voice is there, there in the great life-sound—
- Your eyes are there, out there, within the light;
- Your heart, within the pulsing Race-heart drowned,
- Beats in the immortality of Right.
- O Life, I love you for the love of him
- Who showed me all your glory and your pain I
- "Unto Nirvana"—so the deep tones sing—
- And there—and there—we—shall—be—one—again.
Greensburg, Pa., April 9th, 1893.