LINES.
(Written on recovering from the effects of a serious accident.)
I.I felt the cold shadowOf Death as he passed,And counted that horribleMoment my last.No fear of a FutureTook part in the playOf thoughts that were losingThe sweet light of day.A shock and a tumult,—A crash and a strife,—And all that pertains toThe aim of my lifeSwept o’er me and through me,As if to remindI had housed with the sluggard,And loitered behind.If this penance hath hintedThe value of time,Hath taught me to reckonDelay as a crime,The days yet uncountedMay balance the costOf all I have suffered,Of more than I’ve lost.II.When the Demon of TortureO’ertakes and assails,And thy skill, Cotyæus!But little avails;What is it that sheddethThe balm of relief?What anodyne softensThe pain and the grief?’Tis the presence of friendship,The clasp of a hand,’Tis the kindness that speakethIn tones to commandThe Demon to loosenHis hold and depart,That Hope may return toHer nest in the heart.This boon have I tastedWhile couched in my room;And fair, as the rainbowThat spanneth the gloom,Shall be the remembranceOf faces that shedA magic that bluntedThe thorns of my bed,That wrought on the DemonOf pain till he fled.
I.I felt the cold shadowOf Death as he passed,And counted that horribleMoment my last.No fear of a FutureTook part in the playOf thoughts that were losingThe sweet light of day.A shock and a tumult,—A crash and a strife,—And all that pertains toThe aim of my lifeSwept o’er me and through me,As if to remindI had housed with the sluggard,And loitered behind.If this penance hath hintedThe value of time,Hath taught me to reckonDelay as a crime,The days yet uncountedMay balance the costOf all I have suffered,Of more than I’ve lost.II.When the Demon of TortureO’ertakes and assails,And thy skill, Cotyæus!But little avails;What is it that sheddethThe balm of relief?What anodyne softensThe pain and the grief?’Tis the presence of friendship,The clasp of a hand,’Tis the kindness that speakethIn tones to commandThe Demon to loosenHis hold and depart,That Hope may return toHer nest in the heart.This boon have I tastedWhile couched in my room;And fair, as the rainbowThat spanneth the gloom,Shall be the remembranceOf faces that shedA magic that bluntedThe thorns of my bed,That wrought on the DemonOf pain till he fled.
I.I felt the cold shadowOf Death as he passed,And counted that horribleMoment my last.
No fear of a FutureTook part in the playOf thoughts that were losingThe sweet light of day.
A shock and a tumult,—A crash and a strife,—And all that pertains toThe aim of my life
Swept o’er me and through me,As if to remindI had housed with the sluggard,And loitered behind.
If this penance hath hintedThe value of time,Hath taught me to reckonDelay as a crime,
The days yet uncountedMay balance the costOf all I have suffered,Of more than I’ve lost.
II.When the Demon of TortureO’ertakes and assails,And thy skill, Cotyæus!But little avails;
What is it that sheddethThe balm of relief?What anodyne softensThe pain and the grief?
’Tis the presence of friendship,The clasp of a hand,’Tis the kindness that speakethIn tones to command
The Demon to loosenHis hold and depart,That Hope may return toHer nest in the heart.
This boon have I tastedWhile couched in my room;And fair, as the rainbowThat spanneth the gloom,
Shall be the remembranceOf faces that shedA magic that bluntedThe thorns of my bed,That wrought on the DemonOf pain till he fled.