What was wanting? He was gentle, kind, and generous
still, deferring
To her wishes always; nothing seemed to mar their
tranquil life:
There are skies so calm and leaden that we long for
storm-winds stirring,
There is peace so cold and bitter, that we almost
welcome strife.
Darker grew the clouds above her, and the slow conviction
clearer,
That he gave her home and pity, but that heart, and
soul, and mind
Were beyond her now; he loved her, and in youth he
had been near her,
But he now had gone far onward, and had left her there
behind.
Yes, beyond her: yes, quick-hearted, her Love helped her in revealing It was worthless, while so mighty; was too weak, although so strong; There were courts she could not enter; depths she could not sound; yet feeling It was vain to strive or struggle, vainer still to mourn or long.
He would give her words of kindness, he would talk
of home, but seeming
With an absent look, forgetting if he held or dropped
her hand;
And then turn with eager pleasure to his writing,
reading, dreaming,
Or to speak of things with others that she could not
understand.
He had paid, and paid most nobly, all he owed; no
need of blaming;
It had cost him something, may be, that no future
could restore:
In her heart of hearts she knew it; Love and Sorrow,
not complaining,
Only suffered all the deeper, only loved him all the
more.
Sometimes then a stronger anguish, and more cruel,
weighed upon her,
That through all those years of waiting, he had slowly
learnt the truth;
He had known himself mistaken, but that, bound to
her in honour,
He renounced his life, to pay her for the patience
of her youth.
But a star was slowly rising from that mist of grief,
and brighter
Grew her eyes, for each slow hour surer comfort seemed
to bring;
And she watched with strange sad smiling, how her
trembling hands grew slighter,
And how thin her slender finger, and how large her
wedding-ring.
And the tears dropped slowly on it, as she kissed
that golden token
With a deeper love, it may be, than was in the far-off
past;
And remembering Philip’s fancy, that so long
ago was spoken,
Thought her Ring’s bright angel guardian had
stayed near her to the last.
Grieving sorely, grieving truly, with a tender care
and sorrow,
Philip watched the slow, sure fading of his gentle,
patient wife;
Could he guess with what a yearning she was longing
for the morrow,
Could he guess the bitter knowledge that had wearied
her of life?
Now with violets strewn upon her, Mildred lies in
peaceful sleeping;
All unbound her long, bright tresses, and her throbbing
heart at rest,
And the cold, blue rays of moonlight, through the
open casement creeping,
Show the ring upon her finger, and her hands crossed
on her breast.
Peace at last. Of peace eternal is her calm
sweet smile a token.
Has some angel lingering near her let a radiant promise
fall?
Has he told her Heaven unites again the links that
Earth has broken?
For on Earth so much is needed, but in Heaven Love
is all!