TOO LATE.

Had we but met in other days,

Had we but loved in other ways,

Another light and hope had shone

On your life and my own.

In sweet but hopeless reveries

I fancy how your wistful eyes

Had saved me, had I known their power

In fate's imperious hour;

How loving you, beloved of God,

And following you, the path I trod

Had led me, through your love and prayers,

To God's love unawares:

And how our beings joined as one

Had passed through checkered shade and sun,

Until the earth our lives had given,

With little change, to heaven.

God knows why this was not to be.

You bloomed from childhood far from me.

The sunshine of the favoured place

That knew your youth and grace.

And when your eyes, so fair and free,

In fearless beauty beamed on me,

I knew the fatal die was thrown,

My choice in life was gone.

And still with wild and tender art

Your child-love touched my torpid heart,

Gilding the blackness where it fell,

Like sunlight over hell.

In vain, in vain! my choice was gone!

Better to struggle on alone

Than blot your pure life's blameless shine

With cloudy stains of mine.

A vague regret, a troubled prayer,

And then the future vast and fair

Will tempt your young and eager eyes

With all its glad surprise.

And I shall watch you, safe and far,

As some late traveller eyes a star

Wheeling beyond his desert sands

To gladden happier lands.