My darling went
Unto the seaside long ago. Content
I stayed at home, for O, I was so glad
Of all the little outings that she had!
I knew she needed rest. I loved to stay
At home a while that she might go away.
"How beautiful the sea! How she enjoys
The music of the waves! No care annoys
Her pleasures," thought I; "O, it is so good
That she can rest a while. I wish she could
Stay till the autumn leaves are turning red."
"Stay longer, sister," all my letters said.
"If you are growing stronger every day,
I am so very glad to have you stay."
My darling went
To heaven long ago. Am I content
To stay at home? Why can I not be glad
Of all the glories that she there has had?
She needed change. Why am I loath to stay
And do her work and let her go away?
The land is lovely where her feet have been;
Why do I not rejoice that she has seen
Its beauties first? That she will show to me
The City Beautiful? Is it so hard to be
Happy that she is happy? Hard to know
She learns so much each day that helps her so?
Why can I not each night and morning say,
"I am so glad that she is glad to-day?"
"OUT OF REACH"
You think them "out of reach," your dead?
Nay, by my own dead, I deny
Your "out of reach."--Be comforted;
'Tis not so far to die.
O by their dear remembered smiles,
And outheld hands and welcoming speech,
They wait for us, thousands of miles
This side of "out of reach."
--James Whitcomb Riley.