THE hour which might have been yet might not be, Which man's and woman's heart conceived and bore Yet whereof life was barren,--on what shore Bides it the breaking of Time's weary sea? Bondchild of all consummate joys set free, It somewhere sighs and serves, and mute before The house of Love, hears through the echoing door His hours elect in choral consonancy. But lo! what wedded souls now hand in hand Together tread at last the immortal strand With eyes where burning memory lights love home? Lo! how the little outcast hour has turned And leaped to them and in their faces yearned:-- "I am your child: O parents, ye have come!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A DOUBTFUL CHOICE by EDWARD DE VERE ODE ON MELANCHOLY by JOHN KEATS RESIGNATION by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SWITZERLAND AND ITALY by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES WHISPERS OF HEAVENLY DEATH by WALT WHITMAN THE LITTLE CROSS by EDITH AGNEW SONNETS OF MANHOOD: 30. CHRIST AND WOMAN by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |