Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). An American Anthology, 1787–1900. 1900.

By Rose HawthorneLathrop

1075 A Song before Grief

SORROW, my friend,

When shall you come again?

The wind is slow, and the bent willows send

Their silvery motions wearily down the plain.

The bird is dead

That sang this morning through the summer rain!

Sorrow, my friend,

I owe my soul to you.

And if my life with any glory end

Of tenderness for others, and the words are true,

Said, honoring, when I ’m dead,—

Sorrow, to you, the mellow praise, the funeral wreath, are due.

And yet, my friend,

When love and joy are strong,

Your terrible visage from my sight I rend

With glances to blue heaven. Hovering along,

By mine your shadow led,

“Away!” I shriek, “nor dare to work my new-sprung mercies wrong!”

Still you are near:

Who can your care withstand?

When deep eternity shall look most clear,

Sending bright waves to kiss the trembling land,

My joy shall disappear,—

A flaming torch thrown to the golden sea by your pale hand.