What gulf so deep, what arid desert plain,
Or dreary vastitude of ocean main,
So deep as the divide of hearts once stirred
To sweet response which only winds had heard?
The dead who live but love us now no more,
Gone are the echoes of the tones of yore;
The faces of our sighs and tears and dreams
Are cold as gleaming ice on frozen streams.
The days that were may ne'er return again,
Though each perchance has felt the aching pain;
Yet pride forbade thy wounded heart to let
Me plead; but, oh! thou never can'st forget.
'Tis Destiny's decree, and 'twere not meet
That when I see thy cold eyes I greet
Thee more -- thy burning heart 'neath snow
Can never flame again with tender glow.
And yet how strange that it should thus befall,
Since Love is dead, that fain we would recall
Each note that trembled on the golden lyre
Ere it lay silent on the funeral pyre.
So be it: Destiny for all sad mortals leaves
Some little grains of comfort from life's sheaves;
So, though my love be lost to me for aye,
The flowers of memory ne'er will fade away.
First published in The Brisbane Courier, 8 October 1913
Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography
See also.
Or dreary vastitude of ocean main,
So deep as the divide of hearts once stirred
To sweet response which only winds had heard?
The dead who live but love us now no more,
Gone are the echoes of the tones of yore;
The faces of our sighs and tears and dreams
Are cold as gleaming ice on frozen streams.
The days that were may ne'er return again,
Though each perchance has felt the aching pain;
Yet pride forbade thy wounded heart to let
Me plead; but, oh! thou never can'st forget.
'Tis Destiny's decree, and 'twere not meet
That when I see thy cold eyes I greet
Thee more -- thy burning heart 'neath snow
Can never flame again with tender glow.
And yet how strange that it should thus befall,
Since Love is dead, that fain we would recall
Each note that trembled on the golden lyre
Ere it lay silent on the funeral pyre.
So be it: Destiny for all sad mortals leaves
Some little grains of comfort from life's sheaves;
So, though my love be lost to me for aye,
The flowers of memory ne'er will fade away.
First published in The Brisbane Courier, 8 October 1913
Author reference sites: Austlit, Australian Dictionary of Biography
See also.
