Poor Margaret.

Poor Margaret’s window is alight ;1
                        
                        Poor Margaret sits alone ;2
                        
                        Though long into the silent night,3
                        
                        And far the world is gone.4
                        
                        She lives in shadow till her blood5
                        
                        Grows blackened, soul and all ;6
                        
                        Upon her head a mourning hood,7
                        
                        Upon her heart a pall.8
                        The stars come nightly out of heaven9
                        
                        Old darkness to beguile ;10
                        
                        For her there is no healing given11
                        
                        To their sweet spirit-smile.12
                        
                        That honey dew of sleep the skies13
                        
                        In blessed balm let fall,14
                        
                        Comes not to her poor tired eyes,15
                        
                        Though it be sent for all.16
                        At some dead flower, with fragrance faint,17
                        
                        Her life opes like a book ;18
                        
                        Some old sweet music makes its plaint,19
                        
                        And, from the grave’s dim nook,20
                        
                        The buried bud of hopes laid low,21
                        
                        Flowers in the night full-blown ;22
                        
                        And little things of long ago23
                        
                        Come back to her full-grown.24
                        Her heart is wandering in a whirl,25
                        
                        And she must seek the tomb26
                        
                        Where lies her long-lost little girl.27
                        
                        Oh well with them for whom28
                        
                        Love’s morning star comes round so fair29
                        
                        As evening star of faith,30
                        
                        Already up and shining, ere31
                        
                        The dark of coming death.32
                        But Margaret cannot reach a hand33
                        
                        Beyond the dark of death ;34
                        
                        Her spirit swoons in that high land35
                        
                        Where breathes no human breath ;36
                        
                        
                        She cannot look upon the grave37
                        
                        As one eternal shore,38
                        
                        From which a soul may take the wave39
                        
                        For heaven, to sail or soar.40
                        Across that deep no sail unfurled41
                        
                        For her, no wings put forth ;42
                        
                        She tries to reach the other world43
                        
                        By groping through the earth.44
                        
                        ’Twas there the child went underground,45
                        
                        They parted in that place ;46
                        
                        And ever since the mother found47
                        
                        The door shut in her face.48
                        Though many effacing springs have wrapped49
                        
                        With green the dark grave-bed,50
                        
                        ’Twas there the breaking heartstrings snapped,51
                        
                        As she let down her dead ;52
                        
                        And there she gropes with wild heart yet,53
                        
                        For years, and years, and years ;54
                        
                        Poor Margaret !  and there she’ll let55
                        
                        Her sorrows loose in tears.56
                        All the young mother in her old voice57
                        
                        Its waking moan will make ;58
                        
                        A young aurora light her eyes59
                        
                        With radiance gone to wreck !60
                        
                        And then at dawn she will return61
                        
                        To her old self again,62
                        
                        Eyes dim and dry, heart grey and dern,63
                        
                        And querulous in her pain.64
                        “ We never loved each other much,65
                        
                        I and my poor good-man ;66
                        
                        But on the child we lavish’d such67
                        
                        A love as overran68
                        
                        All boundaries, loving her the more69
                        
                        Because our love was pent ;70
                        
                        Striving as two seas try to pour71
                        
                        Their strength through one small rent.72
                        “ For children come to still link hands,73
                        
                        When souls have fallen apart ;74
                        
                        And hide the rift when either stands75
                        
                        At distance heart from heart.76
                        
                        So on our little one we’d look,77
                        
                        Press hands with fonder grasp,78
                        
                        As though we closed some holy book79
                        
                        Softly with golden clasp.80
                        “ And as the dark earth offers up81
                        
                        Her little winterling82
                        
                        The crocus, pleading with its cup83
                        
                        Of hoarded gold, to bring84
                        
                        Down all the grey heaven’s golden shower85
                        
                        Of spring to warm the sod ;86
                        
                        So did we lift the winsome flower87
                        
                        That sprang from our dark clod.88
                        “ Our little Golden-heart, her name,89
                        
                        And all things sweet and calm,90
                        
                        And pure and fragrant, round her came91
                        
                        With gifts of bloom and balm.92
                        
                        And there she grew, my queen of all,93
                        
                        Golden, and saintly white,94
                        
                        Just as at summer’s smiling call95
                        
                        The lily stands alight.96
                        “ To knee or nipple grew the goal97
                        
                        Of her wee stately walk ;98
                        
                        The voice of my own silent soul99
                        
                        Was her dear baby-talk.100
                        
                        Then darklingly she pined and failed.101
                        
                        And looking on our dead,102
                        
                        The father wailed awhile and ailed,103
                        
                        Turned to the wall and said :104
                        “ ‛’Tis dark and still our house of life,105
                        
                        The fire is burning low,106
                        
                        
Our pretty one is gone, and, wife,107
                        
                        ’Tis time for me to go :108
                        
                        Our Golden-heart has gone to sleep,109
                        
                        She’s happed in for the night ;110
                        
                        And so to bed I’ll quietly creep,111
                        
                        And sleep till morning light.’ ”112
                        Once more poor Margaret arose,113
                        
                        And passed into the night :114
                        
                        Long shadows weird of tree and house115
                        
                        Made ghosts i’ the wan moonlight !116
                        
                        She passed into the churchyard, where117
                        
                        The many glad life-waves118
                        
                        That leap’d of old, have stood still there,119
                        
                        In green and grassy graves.120
                        “ Oh, would my body were at rest121
                        
                        Under this cool grave sward !122
                        
                        Oh, would my soul were with the blest,123
                        
                        That slumber in the Lord !124
                        
                        They sleep so sweetly underground,125
                        
                        For death hath shut the door,126
                        
                        And all the world of sorrow and sound127
                        
                        Can trouble them no more.”128
                        A spirit feel is in the place,129
                        
                        That makes the poor heart gasp ;130
                        
                        Her soul stands white up in her face131
                        
                        For one warm human clasp !132
                        
                        To-night she sees the grave astir,133
                        
                        And, as in prayer she kneels,134
                        
                        The mystery opens unto her :135
                        
                        She for the first time feels136
                        The spirit world may be as near137
                        
                        Her, moving silent round,138
                        
                        As are the dead that sleep a mere139
                        
                        Short fathom underground.140
                        
                        And there be eyes that see the sight141
                        
                        Of lorn ones wandering, vexed142
                        
                        Through some long, sad, and shadowy night143
                        
                        Betwixt this world and next.144
                        Doorways of fear are eye and ear,145
                        
                        Through which the wonders go ;146
                        
                        And through the night with glow-worm light,147
                        
                        The church is all aglow !148
                        
                        There comes a waft of Sabbath hymn ;149
                        
                        She enters :  all the air150
                        
                        With faces fills, divine and dim,151
                        
                        The blessed dead are there.152
                        One came and bade poor Margaret sit,153
                        
                        Seemed to her as it smiled,154
                        
                        A great white bird of God alit155
                        
                        From the marble forest wild.156
                        
                        “ Look to the altar !”  there a spell157
                        
                        Fixed her ;  she saw up start158
                        
                        A woman, like a soul in hell :159
                        
                        ’Twas her own Golden-heart.160
                        “ It would have been thus, mother dear,161
                        
                        And so God took her, from162
                        
                        All trials and temptations here,163
                        
                        To His eternal home ;164
                        
                        And you shall see her in a place165
                        
                        Where death can never part.”166
                        
                        She looked up in that angel’s face :167
                        
                        ’Twas her own Golden-heart.168
                        The lofty music rose again169
                        
                        From all those happy souls,170
                        
                        Till all the windows thrilled, as when171
                        
                        The organ thunder rolls ;172
                        
                        And all her life is like a light173
                        
                        Weak weed the stream doth sway174
                        
                        Until it reaches its full height,175
                        
                        Breaks, and is borne away.176
                        Her life stood still to listen to177
                        
                        That music !  then a hand178
                        
                        Took hers, and she was floated through179
                        
                        The mystic border-land.180
                        
                        ’Twas Golden-heart !  from that eclipse181
                        
                        She drew her into bliss :182
                        
                        Two spirits closed at dying lips,183
                        
                        In one immortal kiss.184
                        Next day, an early worshipper185
                        
                        Was kneeling in the aisle ;186
                        
                        A statue of life that did not stir,187
                        
                        But knelt on with a smile188
                        
                        Upon the face that smiled with light,189
                        
                        As though, when left behind,190
                        
                        It smiled on with some glorious sight,191
                        
                        Long after the eyes were blind.192