A Final Blessing

May God who guards the flowers and all the wildwood places
And tints with red the sea-weeds in the sea,—
May God who folds the skies in his superb embraces
Have still more heed of thee!

The power of man is slight: I cannot guard or follow:
Where thy steps fall, often, I may not be.
But on the mountain-steep, or in the daisied hollow,
May God's love circle thee!

May somewhat of my love pass into God, and find thee
And watch thy footsteps though I may not see:
May my love and God's love be guardian fire behind thee
And flame in front of thee!

May God's love and my love be ever round about thee
As the dense thronging soft leaves guard the tree:
A hallowing light within, a saving shield without thee;
May our love follow thee!

God loves the stars and winds and all frail human creatures:
He sends them sorrow and he sends them glee.
Shall he not love as I thy sweet love-breathing features?
Past all love, wonder at thee?

I wonder and I love: and God himself who made thee
Must wonder, as deep wonder thrills through me.
Must stoop himself from heaven with veil of clouds to shade thee:
Must long to die for thee.

Oh, this I envy God,—that he so far above thee
Can pour out blessings till all pain shall flee:
While I, O love of mine, can only, only, love thee,
Can only die for thee.

In this I envy God,—that he can send heaven's flowers
And all heaven's gifts from heavenly grove and lea:
Blossoms of passionate love from his strange starlit bowers:
I—but one song to thee.

Yet can God love thee more? Has not my love created
The very love wherewith God loveth thee?
Hath not God's love for thee in mine originated?
Did God not learn from me?

Ah! surely I learnt from God: and therefore God must love thee
More even than I (Great God, can this thing be!)—
Must yearn with infinite and pure desire above thee,
As I yearn over thee.

Yet he can do so much, and I can do so little.
The combat is not fair: the rivalry
Shuts out the human heart, for human swords are brittle:—
God's sword must flash for thee!

God's sword must flash, and hover like a bright flame o'er thee:
God's fiery steel must sweep the pathway free.
But I will be God's sword, till, broken, I fall before thee,—
Dead in the path for thee!
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