Was it a chance that made her pause One moment at the opened door, Pale where she stood so flushed before As one a spirit overawes: -- Or might it rather be because She felt the grave was at our feet, And felt that we should no more meet Upon its hither side no more? Was it a chance that made her turn Once toward the window passing by, One moment with a shrinking eye Wherein her spirit seemed to yearn: -- Or did her soul then first discern How long and rough the pathway is That leads us home from vanities, And how it will be good to die? There was a hill she had to pass; And while I watched her up the hill She stooped one moment hurrying still, But left a rose upon the grass: Was it mere idleness: -- or was Herself with her own self at strife Till while she chose the better life She felt this life has power to kill? Perhaps she did it carelessly, Perhaps it was an idle thought; Or else it was the grace unbought, A pledge to all eternity: I know not yet how this may be; But I shall know when face to face In Paradise we find a place And love with love that endeth not. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CHANT OF THE VULTURES by EDWIN MARKHAM THE POOR-HOUSE by SARA TEASDALE HIS MOTHER'S SERVICE TO OUR LADY by FRANCOIS VILLON MY LOVE COULD WALK by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES TO PRIMROSES FILLED WITH MORNING DEW by ROBERT HERRICK ON A BOY'S FIRST READING OF THE PLAY OF 'KING HENRY THE FIFTH' by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL |