Too Late.

Had we but met in other days,     Had we but loved in other ways,     Another light and hope had shone         On your life and my own.     In sweet but hopeless reveries     I fancy how your wistful eyes     Had saved me, had I known their power         In fate's imperious hour;     How loving you, beloved of God,     And following you, the path I trod     Had led me, through your love and prayers,         To God's love unawares:     And how our beings joined as one     Had passed through checkered shade and sun,     Until the earth our lives had given,         With little change, to heaven.     God knows why this was not to be.     You bloomed from childhood far from me.     The sunshine of the favoured place         That knew your youth and grace.     And when your eyes, so fair and free,     In fearless beauty beamed on me,     I knew the fatal die was thrown,         My choice in life was gone.     And still with wild and tender art     Your child-love touched my torpid heart,     Gilding the blackness where it fell,         Like sunlight over hell.     In vain, in vain! my choice was gone!     Better to struggle on alone     Than blot your pure life's blameless shine         With cloudy stains of mine.     A vague regret, a troubled prayer,     And then the future vast and fair     Will tempt your young and eager eyes         With all its glad surprise.     And I shall watch you, safe and far,     As some late traveller eyes a star     Wheeling beyond his desert sands         To gladden happier lands.