Here’s my case. Of old I used to love him.
This same unseen friend, before I knew:
Dream there was none like him, none above him,—
Wake to hope and trust my dream was true.
Loved I not his letters° full of beauty?
°5
Not his actions famous far and wide?
Absent, he would know I vowed him duty,
Present, he would find me at his side.
Pleasant fancy! for I had but letters,
Only knew of actions by hearsay:
10
He himself was busied with my betters;
What of that? My turn must come some
day.
“Some day” proving—no day!
Here’s the puzzle.
Passed and passed my turn is. Why
complain?
He’s so busied! If I could but muzzle
People’s foolish mouths that give
me pain!
“Letters?” (hear them!) “You a judge
of writing?
Ask the experts!—How they shake
the head
O’er these characters, your friend’s inditing—
Call them forgery from A to Z°!
°20
“Actions? Where’s your certain proof”
(they bother)
“He, of all you find so great and
good,
He, he only, claims this, that, the other
Action—claimed by men, a multitude?”
I can simply wish I might refute you,
Wish my friend would,—by a
word, a wink,—
Bid me stop that foolish mouth,—you brute
you!
He keeps absent,—why, I cannot
think.
Never mind! Tho’ foolishness may flout
me.
One thing’s sure enough; ’tis
neither frost, 30
No, nor fire, shall freeze or burn from out me
Thanks for truth—tho’
falsehood, gained—tho’ lost.
All my days, I’ll go the softlier, sadlier,
For that dream’s sake! How
forget the thrill
Thro’ and thro’ me as I thought, “The
gladlier
Lives my friend because I love him still!”
Ah, but there’s a menace some one utters!
“What and if your friend at home
play tricks?
Peep at hide-and-seek behind the shutters?
Mean your eyes should pierce thro’
solid bricks? 40
’What and if he, frowning, wake you, dreamy?
Lay on you the blame that bricks—conceal?
Say ’At least I saw who did not see me,
Does see now, and presently shall feel’?”
“Why, that makes your friend a monster!”
say you;
“Had his house no window? At
first nod,
Would you not have hailed him?” Hush, I pray
you!
What if this friend happen to be—God?
* * * *
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