Unquenched
I think upon the conquering Greek who ran
(Brave was the racer!) that brave race of old-
Swifter than hope his feet that did not tire.
Calmer than love the hand which reached that goal;
A torch it bore, and cherished to the end,
And rescued from the winds the sacred fire.
O life the race! O heart the racer! Hush!
And listen long enough to learn of him
Who sleeps beneath the dust with his desire.
Go! shame thy coward weariness, and wail.
Who doubles contest, doubles victory.
Go! learn to run the race, and carry fire.
O Friend! The lip is brave, the heart is weak.
Stay near. The runner faints-the torch falls pale.
Save me the flame that mounteth ever higher!
Grows it so dark? I lift mine eyes to thine;
Blazing within them, steadfast, pure, and strong,
Against the wind there fights the eternal fire.
Apple-Blossoms
Cold Care and I have run a race,
And I, fleet-foot, have won
A little space, a little hour,
To find the May alone.
I sit beneath the apple-tree,
I see nor sky nor sun;
I only know the apple-buds
Are opening one by one.
You asked me once a little thing,-
A lecture or a song
To hear with you; and yet I thought
To find my whole life long
Too short to bear the happiness
That bounded through the day,
That made the look of apple-blooms,
And you, and me, and May!
For long between us there had hung
The mist of love's young doubt;
Sweet, shy, uncertain, all the world
Of trust and May burst out.
I wore the flowers in my hair,
Their color on my dress;
Dear Love! whenever apples bloom
In Heaven, do they bless
Your heart with memories so small,
So strong, so cruel-glad?
If ever apples bloom in Heaven,
I wonder are you sad?
Heart! yield thee up thy fruitless quest
Beneath the apple-tree;
Youth comes but once, love only once,
And May but once to thee!
