TWO travellers, worn with sun and rain <br />And gropings o'er dim paths unknown, <br />Meet where long separate ways have grown <br />To one, and then diverge again. <br /> <br />They halt anigh the green wayside, <br />Where groves pant with the impassioned song <br />Of nightingales; wild roses throng <br />There round them leaning side by side. <br /> <br />As close and still more close they cling, <br />Like some weird tale--once more in dreams <br />Lived through with ghastlier horror--seems <br />That old, cold, lonely wayfairing. <br /> <br />Oh close sweet clasp of hands! oh sweet <br />Close beat of heart on happy heart; <br />Beating as though no more apart <br />Their pulses ever again should beat! <br /> <br />One look of love! one long embrace! <br />One kiss that welds two lives in one! <br />And lo, the sudden lifted sun <br />Lights their slow feet on separate ways. <br /> <br />Fledged by strong love, their wingèd speech <br />Is borne awhile from soul to soul, <br />Then ever-widening waters roll <br />And drown their voices each from each.<br /><br />Mathilde Blind<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sundered-paths/
