Misgivings.
I wrote a letter to a distant land,1
Full of high hope and young expectancy ;2
It seemed the very stretching of my hand3
To you, across the sea.4
“ My friend,” I said, “ will feel my fingers’ touch,5
Guess my eyes’ glowing, catch my pulse’s start—6
You will not think I write a word too much,7
Because you know my heart ! ”8
And so I waited, satisfied and gay,9
My letter speeding over land and sea ;10
One morning, “ It will reach your hand to-day, ”11
I said ; “ think well of me ! ”12
Then days stole by, and weeks grew one by one,13
And you were silent still, as past they went ;14
And doubts crept up between me and the sun,15
Marring my life’s content.16
Perchance the letter had not reached your land17
Far distant ? thus I questioned, sore perplexed ;18
Perhaps you cared no longer for the hand19
I held you ?— that came next.20
Perchance my burning words were wild and strange21
To ears that might forget my voice, I said ;22
Then torturing fancy leapt to worse than change—23
O God ! if you were dead !24
*****
Lord, if it be Thy will to chasten me,25
From Thine own hands I meekly ask the pain,26
Let not my wretched, wavering soul be free27
To plague itself again !28
For all the while, to bring me answer due,29
My friend was speeding over sea and land ;30
And my misgivings died at sight of you,31
Coming with outstretched hand !32