These, to you now, O, more than ever now -...

These, to you now, O, more than ever now -

Now that the Ancient Enemy

Has passed, and we, we two that are one, have seen

A piece of perfect Life

Turn to so ravishing a shape of Death

The Arch-Discomforter might well have smiled

In pity and pride,

Even as he bore his lovely and innocent spoil

From those home-kingdoms he left desolate!

Poor windlestraws

On the great, sullen, roaring pool of Time

And Chance and Change, I know!

But they are yours, as I am, till we attain

That end for which me make, we two that are one:

A little, exquisite Ghost

Between us, smiling with the serenest eyes

Seen in this world, and calling, calling still

In that clear voice whose infinite subtleties

Of sweetness, thrilling back across the grave,

Break the poor heart to hear: -

‘ Come, Dadsie, come!

Mama, how long — how long!’