The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1881-09-15

wait again.
Dear, was it only the clay that held you,
was it only the touch Of my hand that ca
ressed you, the tone Of my voice that ever
had tender words for you, and the sound
sof1my eager feet that hurried swiftly toward
you ever, and stayed before you waiting?
Was it not my soul you loved, and its hui
man form but as the house in which that
soul dwell? For the body is but q mere &C
cident. chance garment flung aside and
dropping to decay when no longer strong
enough to hold the soul it covers, refuge
in which for q time we take shelter and use
human symbols to do our work and say our
say; q place Of lodging for that which has
been, and is forever, and which, while 1t
stays in the body, is fed and strengthened
aud beautitied, and then goes forth again,
or is weakened and starved and disfgured,
and at last is scattered to be gathered up
no more. Was it not my soul you loved,
dear, and that is not sleeping in the dead
woman? Life was not only in the beating
heart and aching head, but in the hurryirg
feet and tender hands and the little, eager
fingers, in every atom Of flesh, and from
every Of these it has gone forth and waits
till you shall choose whether eternity shall
be ours or not.
came to him and knew by his face that
q long time had passed since our last meet
ing, and he was changed. Strange faces
were around him, and strange voices pleased
him, and the old Tenderness was not in
his eyes when he thought Of me. and my
| flowers were no longer on his table, my
portrait no more before him. and songs that
had not been mine were on his lips. The
brightness came back to his face and the
happy ring to his voice, as he passed on
into world in which I had no part or
memory. But knew thatit must be SO,
I would not have had him grieve always,
and is not life sweet, even to those to whom
death will be sweeterY
Fearing and dreading, stood by his
si,1e once more, but only to know that the
thought of me saddened him, to watch him
struggle with the past, and try to shut out
the remembrance of the dead face we had
stood beside and with him there
was woman, yonng and fair, fairer than
even in my fairest days, and in her eyes
there was look Of love, and on her lips
were tender words, and he looked down
upon her face and listened to her Just as
long ago he had looked down at my face
and listened to my words. stood beside
he started as IL he felt deathly coldness.
tried to look into his eyes, but shudder-
ingly he turned away. whispered old words
into his ears, and he heard them in his heart
and remembered them, and knew that
thoughts Of me were strong upon him; yet
with sigh he turned away and wound his
arms round the woman who had taken my
place. He is lonely and sad, - cried; "he
cannot always, be alone, without mortal
hands to soothe him, and human tones to
comfort him, 1t is this that draws him to her.
for he is yet human It is her humanity he
Graves to help him along the lonely road;
the sound Of a voice, the sight ola face, and
! all that / can be to him no more; but il is
me he loves, it is my face he shall see once
more before him in his dying hour when the
eompanionship Of human life is ended.
It is not her soul that will know him when
only love gives recognition, and only love
NAV guide him over the great threshold.
He rested his head down upon her hair,
and she. whispered. longingly, If had only
had your first Lowell" He looked at her sad
! " and gravely and into his voice there came
4 sweetness I had never heard, as he an
swered her slowly, You have my best
love-" And still I stayed looking
at him, listening to him, knowing that
should do so neyermore-that now indeed
that which he had called love had been but
delight in sound and sight and touch, born
OF the flesh and dying with 1t, and not wor-
thy Of the name, and nothing else could
bring me to him. And would have been
content, since he had willed ESQ, had she
that was with him had power to give him q
j perfect love; but knew that it was not SO.
And still I stayed, even while he chung to
her until he shut his eyes so that in fancy
he might not see me, and hid his face that
4 he might not hear me; and with wrench
he shut all remembrance of me out of
7 his heart and turned to her again.
And then fled out into the night, know
ing that if We met again there would he nc
memory Of me with MIN, for memory dies
with the body unless it is strong enough tc
outlive death. or love is there to carry it on
And even if he saw my face again in
some dim future of which knew not yet
it would be strange to him, as Pickering
thought that can be identified with no past
and which we dare not call to memory, il
strange. For as the body knows much the
soul may not remember, So has the sou
& secrets that can never be known by the
body And cried out to the dark.
ness in my anguish, and the wind lent me
its voice and shrieked in the crevices anc
beat against the windows; but I knew
4 he standing within heard no
= or took no heed. and thought of nothing
} save Of the woman beside him. @Oh couli
you but know / cried, could YOU bu
know how with our own hands we make oul
heavens and bells and the heavens and helli
of those we Lowell" For that which is ou
hearts to the end is always, and so ourselves
do we work out our own Immortality. Thu
choice is with us and the material in ou
own hands, to live or die even as we will
but to live the soul must have strength
strength that is greater than death, create
than the power that comes after to gathe
us in until separate life is ours no more
! and the strength that is greatest is born O
} love that is perfect. And Of perfect Low,
are all things born, of love that in its high
J est has gathered beauty and knowledge ant
] wisdom to itself, until the mortal life ha
become immortal and passes on with al
! things in its hands.
I do not know how far I went. on and on
, into what strange lands, on and on, born,
by the wind and hurried by the storm
making no sign, leaving no footprint be
( hind. Sometimes it seemed as If the win.
that met me understood, and went Oy moan
, ing and plying, and carried on, perhaps t,
him, some sad message. for in its ton,
there seemed cry Of parting and despai
that was my own. = And then wen
back once more to see the babe that hat
slept in its cot the night I had first stoo.
{ beside my husband in his sorrow. Their
t. Il. 49,