Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916.
‘I gaze into the dark’Jessie Fremont O’Donnell (1860–1897)
I
I gaze into the dark,
The creeping shadows chill me: and the Night,
With wide-outreaching arms, holds thee afar.
O yearning eyes! Your love, ’midst wondrous light,
More fair than falls from moon-ray or from star,
Smiles out into the dark.
I reach into the dark.
I cannot find thee; and my groping hands
Touch only memories and phantom shapes.
O empty arms! Be glad of those sweet lands
Wherein your love all loneliness escapes,
And smiles into the dark.
I call into the dark.
There comes from out the hush below, above,
No answer but my own quick-fluttered breath.
O doubting heart! Dost thou not know thy love,
Across the awful silentness of death
Smiles at thee through the dark?