by Alice Cary
Leave me, O leave me! my o'erwearied feet,
O my beloved! may walk no more with thee;
For I am standing where the circles meet
That mortals name, Time and Eternity.
Tell me, O tell me not of summer flowers
In vales where once our steps together trod;
Even though I now behold the shining towers
That rise above the city of our God.
I know that the wide fields of heaven are fair --
That on their borders grief is all forgot;
That the white tents of beauty, too, are there --
But how shall I be blessed where thou art not?
Over the green hills, that are only crossed
By drifts of light, and choruses of glee,
How shall I wander like a spirit lost,
And fallen and ruiled, missing, mourning thee!
If any wrong of mine, or thought, or said,
Has given thee pain or sorrow, O forgive!
As wilt thou not, my friend, when I am dead,
And by my errors better learn to live.
There is not found in all the pleasant past,
One memory of thee that I deplore,
Or wish not to be in my heart at last,
When I shall fall asleep to wake no more.
Then leave, oh leave me! though I see the light
Of heaven's sweet clime, and hear the angel's call,
Where there is never any cloud nor night,
Thy love is stronger, mightier than all!
Boston: Ticknor And Fields