Even in Hell
In what strange places have our spirits met!—
Sometimes upon the green downs high and bare;
Sometimes amid the tossed sea's stormy air;
Sometimes in gladness; often in regret.
Only one thing has happened never yet,—
That I should call, and thou shouldst not be there!
Desire,—and find no answer to my prayer;—
I owe thy faithfulness a ceaseless debt.
Such woes we have conquered, and such barriers scaled,
And after such defeats have risen upright,
That, if hell's fiery storm-bolts round me hailed,
I should expect thee to divide that night
And, vainly by the lurid ghosts assailed,
To bring me with thyself the old delight.
Sometimes upon the green downs high and bare;
Sometimes amid the tossed sea's stormy air;
Sometimes in gladness; often in regret.
Only one thing has happened never yet,—
That I should call, and thou shouldst not be there!
Desire,—and find no answer to my prayer;—
I owe thy faithfulness a ceaseless debt.
Such woes we have conquered, and such barriers scaled,
And after such defeats have risen upright,
That, if hell's fiery storm-bolts round me hailed,
I should expect thee to divide that night
And, vainly by the lurid ghosts assailed,
To bring me with thyself the old delight.
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