A little longer yet—­a little longer,
The voices thou hast loved shall charm thine ear;
And thy true heart, that now beats quick to hear them,
A little longer yet shall hold them dear.

A little longer yet—­joy while thou mayest;
Love and rejoice! for time has nought in store;
And soon the darkness of the grave shall bid thee
Love and rejoice and feel and know no more.

* * *

A little longer still—­Patience, Beloved: 
A little longer still, ere Heaven unroll
The Glory, and the Brightness, and the Wonder,
Eternal, and divine, that waits thy Soul!

A little longer ere Life true, immortal,
(Not this our shadowy Life,) will be thine own;
And thou shalt stand where winged Archangels worship,
And trembling bow before the Great White Throne.

A little longer still, and Heaven awaits thee,
And fills thy spirit with a great delight;
Then our pale joys will seem a dream forgotten,
Our Sun a darkness, and our Day a Night.

A little longer, and thy Heart, Beloved,
Shall beat for ever with a Love divine;
And joy so pure, so mighty, so eternal,
No creature knows and lives, will then be thine.

A little longer yet—­and angel voices
Shall ring in heavenly chant upon thine ear;
Angels and Saints await thee, and God needs thee: 
Beloved, can we bid thee linger here!

VERSE:  GRIEF

An ancient enemy have I,
And either he or I must die;
For he never leaveth me,
Never gives my soul relief,
Never lets my sorrow cease,
Never gives my spirit peace—­
For mine enemy is Grief!

Pale he is, and sad and stern;
And whene’er he cometh nigh,
Blue and dim the torches burn,
Pale and shrunk the roses turn;
While my heart that he has pierced
Many a time with fiery lance,
Beats and trembles at his glance: 
Clad in burning steel is he,
All my strength he can defy;
For he never leaveth me—­
And one of us must die!

I have said, “Let ancient sages
Charm me from my thoughts of pain!”
So I read their deepest pages,
And I strove to think—­in vain! 
Wisdom’s cold calm words I tried,
But he was seated by my side:-
Learning I have won in vain;
She cannot rid me of my pain.

When at last soft sleep comes o’er me,
A cold hand is on my heart;
Stern sad eyes are there before me;
Not in dreams will he depart: 
And when the same dreary vision
From my weary brain has fled,
Daylight brings the living phantom,
He is seated by my bed,
Bending o’er me all the while,
With his cruel, bitter smile,
Ever with me, ever nigh;—­
And either he or I must die!

Then I said, long time ago,
“I will flee to other climes,
I will leave mine ancient foe!”
Though I wandered far and wide—­
Still he followed at my side.