| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900. |
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| 1567. Separation |
| | | By Martha Gilbert Dickinson |
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| THERE be many kinds of parting—yes, I know | |
| Some with fond, grieving eyes that overflow, | |
| Some with brave hands that strengthen as they go; | |
| Ah yes, I know—I know. | |
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| But there be partings harder still to tell, | 5 |
| That fall in silence, like an evil spell, | |
| Without one wistful message of farewell; | |
| Ah yes, too hard to tell. | |
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| There is no claiming of one sacred kiss,— | |
| One token for the days when life shall miss | 10 |
| A spirit from the world of vanished bliss; | |
| Ah no—not even this. | |
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| There is no rising ere the birds have sung | |
| Their skyward songs, to journey with the sun,— | |
| Nor folded hands to show that life is done; | 15 |
| Ah no, for life is young. | |
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| There are no seas, no mountains rising wide, | |
| No centuries of absence to divide,— | |
| Just soul-space, standing daily side by side; | |
| Ah, wiser to have died. | 20 |
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| Hands still clasp hands, eyes still reflect their own;— | |
| Yet had one over universes flown, | |
| So far each heart hath from the other grown, | |
| Alone were less alone. | |
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