Classic Poem

IN BLANK VERSE .

My bosom friend, 'tis long since we have looked
Upon each other's face; and God may will
It shall be longer, ere we meet again.
Awhile it seemed most strange unto my heart
That I should mourn, and thou not nigh to cheer;
That I should shrink 'mid perils, and thy spirit
Far away, far, powerless to brave them with me.
Now am I used to wear a lonesome heart
About me; now the agencies of ill
Have so oppressed my inward, absolute self,
That feelings shared, and fully answered, scarce
Would seem my own. Like a bright, singular dream
Is parted from me that strong sense of love,
Which, as one indivisible glory, lay
On both our souls, and dwelt in us, so far
As we did dwell in it. A mighty presence!
Almighty, had our wills but been confirmed
In consciousness of their immortal strength
Given by that inconceivable will eterne
For a pure birthright, when the blank of things
First owned a motive power that was not God.
But thou — thy brow has ta'en no brand of grief,
Thine eyes look cheerful, even as when we stood
By Arno, talking of the maid we loved.
In sooth I envy thee; thou seemest pure:
But I am seared: He in whom lies the world
Is coiled round the fibres of my heart,
And with his serpentine, thought-withering gaze
Doth fascinate the sovran rational eye.
There is another world: and some have deemed
It is a world of music, and of light,
And human voices, and delightful forms,
Where the material shall no more be cursed
By dominance of evil, but become
A beauteous evolution of pure spirit,
Opposite, but not warring, rather yielding
New grace, and evidence of liberty.
Oh, may we recognize each other there,
My bosom friend! May we cleave to each other
And love once more together! Pray for me,
That such may be the glory of our end.