And sharp as sword’s clash came the one word, “Wait!”
Wait? He had waited years. The soft-eyed spring,
Crowned with sweet daisies and forget-me-nots,
The June, with roses slumbering in her hair,
The blithe October, with his grape-stained face,
And winter, with a winding-sheet of snow,
Had passed him by with tiresome, steady pace,
Year after year, and found him waiting stil.
O God, ‘t is hard to wait! to stand one side
And see the noisy crowd go battling on;
To mark that other hands, less strong than his,
Grasp the bright crowns that gleam for him in vain;
To note the love-light shining in some face-
A face Madonna-like in its repose,-
And know that not for him was human love,
To yearn and long and pray for-yet to wait.
Once he had toiled for gold: had watched the pile
Of glittering coin grow ‘neath his stealthy touch;
Had envied e’en the happy summer fields,
The buttercups that sparkled here and there;
Had measured with the yard the rainbow arch,
And coined his life out till it seemed spun gold.
And then came loss by flood and field and fire;
The storm-winds beat upon his earthly home,
The red flames crackled ’round his shining store,
With impish laughter clapping their red hands;
And in and through and over all, His voice,
Saying, “Be still, and know that I am God!
“This is the end-stand back and humbly wait!”
Then he had lived for fame: had sold himself
To what he called “the people.” And the world-
The busy, heartless world that stands one side,
And claps or frowns as suits its whim the best-
Cheered on, cried “Good!” and “Brave philanhropist!”
“This man has packed the truth into a shell,
Which – look you – now he offers us to crack;
We’ll give him honors and a seat of state.”
Ah! he had labored nights, and watched the hours
Creep, heavy-footed , down the halls of time;
Had heard the deep bells on the frosty air
Ring out the hours, and then had gone to rest
With aching head and eyes too dull for sight;
And all for what? To see the great wave turn
And beat him back up on the barren shore;
To hear men praise another – yes, and jeer
And call him fool, whom yesterday the fates
Had semed to beckon on with waving hands,
And jeweled hair, and gleams of flashing eyes;
And then that word, as if an angel spoke,-
Solemn, yet not without its comfort, too,
The peace of that word fell upon him- “Wait!”
The June was with him. All the summer air
Was full of fragrance blown from the sweet-brier,
And rich with melody that ne’er was wrought
By cunningest musicians; humming bees
Rocked in the golden heart of flowers all day;
And when the night climbed up the sunset hills,
Leaving behind her train of silver stars,
The ghostly moon shone down through linden-trees,
And God’s great peace found rest within his soul.
And June and roses and the birds brought love.
Oh, she was fair as lily on its stalk,
Or sweet white clover which the zephyr bends,
With face that soothed you like a low, sweet psalm
To mark her saint or else some pure madonna.
The June had faded, and the autunm winds
Rustled the dead leaves round a new-made grave,
O’er which a marble angel drooped her wings.
The old, old story, old as death and time,
The one is taken and the other left,
While to his heart descend the solemn words,
“Thy time shall come; not now, but quickly. Wait!”
The slow years dragged along, month after month,
Week following week; and each slow-footed day
Found him the same, yet changed; the country folk
Told tales of how much good he did the poor,
How kind he was, how gently soft he spoke,
Most often, too, to children, and to those
Whom grief had touched; and oftentimes, they said,
His face was as an angel’s, with the light
That never shone on land nor yet on sea
About his eyes; a certain longing, too,
As if he hoped for something that should be,
If not on earth, yet in eternity.
They say his death was like a little child’s.
The snow was hovering in the wintry air,
The winds were chanting in the leafless trees
A solemn music; and as the red sun
Sank ‘neath the hills, he turned away his face,
The sweet smile haunting still the kindly lips
And tender eyes, and cried, “At last! at last
The watch is over!” and then fell asleep.
(John Adams Bellows)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, God Poems, World Poems, Night Poems, Light Poems, Time Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Soul Poems, Nature Poems, War & Peace Poems, Faces PoemsBased on Keywords: soft-eyed, cunningest, semed, slow-footed, heavy-footed, linden-trees, madonna-like, sweet-brier, autunm