Glenn Ward Dresbach

BLOWN gold was the hair of the child

In the wind and the sun by the sea;

And the sea was silver and jade,

And pearl where the breakers played—

Like children strange and wild

In a pagan ecstasy.

And the child cried out to his mother,

“Oh, let me play in the sea!”

But I heard the voice of the mother,

Weary with waiting long:

“Hush, my child, come near to me—

The sea is cruel and strong!”

I groped through blooms in the dark

And a fragrance stirred to me,

And I knew that I touched a rose,

Although I could not see.

So, for your soul I would grope

In the dark, if you were dead.

As I knew the rose I would know

Your soul and be comforted.

III

It seems sometimes that I have been

Upon an island far at sea,

Shipwrecked, alone; and I have seen

White sails beyond the call of me,

Have seen them pass—to what fair skies

Beyond the hunger of my eyes?

The dead may know! How can we say?

So, when the tomb is over me,

You who in life could never give

The things that with the dead may live,

Come all alone, and silently

Give unto me at close of day

A red rose for your lips I pressed

So oft in dreams, and bending low,

Give me a lily for your breast:

The dead may know!