And when you are old and lonely,
In Memory's magic shine
You will see on your thin and wasting hands,
Like gems, these kisses of mine.
And when you muse at evening
At the sound of some vanished name,
The ghost of my kisses shall touch your lips
And kindle your heart to flame.
GOD'S VENGEANCE.
Saith the Lord, "Vengeance is mine;
I will repay," saith the Lord;
Ours be the anger divine,
Lit by the flash of His word.
How shall His vengeance be done?
How, when His purpose is clear?
Must He come down from His throne?
Hath He no instruments here?
Sleep not in imbecile trust,
Waiting for God to begin,
While, growing strong in the dust,
Rests the bruised serpent of sin.
Right and Wrong,--both cannot live
Death-grappled. Which shall we see?
Strike! only Justice can give
Safety to all that shall be.
Shame! to stand paltering thus,
Tricked by the balancing odds;
Strike! God is waiting for us!
Strike! for the vengeance is God's.
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.
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