Parted
O that I stood in the presence of God;
In the palpable presence of God,
And had a voice for one cry!
That my body were dead and my soul were alive
In the light of that visible Eye.
“God! give me one boon for my life
That was patient and long;
For the waiting; the years — oh, the years!
For the hunger and tears;
For the hurt and the wrong:
God! grant me one boon for my life.
"Somewhere — oh, Thou knowest the where—
In thy worlds with their heavens and hells,
In the limitless spaces of air,
He is, and Thou knowest the where!
A boon, oh, a boon! Send me there!”
“For I bore it, the worst that was sent;
The pitiless ache of the tears;
The loss and the fierce discontent,
And the horror and fears
Of that silence more hard than a wall!
And the fancies, so maddeningly sweet,
More cruel than all:
By the love that is deathless I call
As I fall at thy feet.”
Would I cry? Would the floods be unsealed
In that Presence, in sight of the Thrones?
Would I jar the loud joy of the blest
With my strenuous tones?
Or stand with my hand on my mouth
Unable to praise or to pray:
Just feeling, “Thou knowest it all,
What is there to say?”
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