TO MEET, OR OTHERWISE
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HETHER to sally and see thee, girl of my dreams,Or whether to stayAnd see thee not! How vast the difference seemsOf Yea from NayJust now. Yet this same sun will slant its beamsAt no far dayOn our two mounds, and then what will the difference weigh! Yet I will see thee, maiden dear, and makeThe most I canOf what remains to us amid this brake CimmerianThrough which we grope, and from whose thorns we ache,While still we scanRound our frail faltering progress for some path or plan. By briefest meeting something sure is won;It will have been:Nor God nor Daemon can undo the done,Unsight the seen,Make muted music be as unbegun,Though things terreneGroan in their bondage till oblivion supervene. So, to the one long-sweeping symphonyFrom times remoteTill now, of human tenderness, shall weSupply one note,Small and untraced, yet that will ever beSomewhere afloatAmid the spheres, as part of sick Life’s antidote.
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