Frida

Frida, I knew that thy life-years were counted. If but before thee a lifting thought mounted, Upward thy gaze turned all wistful to view it, As wouldst thou pursue it. Eyes that so clear saw the wonderful vision Looked far away beyond earth's indecision. Snow-white unfolded the pinions that later Bore thee to the greater. Speaking or asking thou broughtest me sorrow; Eyes thine and words thine seemed wanting to borrow Clearness more pure and thoughts, victory gaining Beyond my attaining. When thou wert dancing in all a child's lightness, Shaking thy locks like a fountain in brightness, Laughing till heaven was opened in gladness Over thy gladness,- Or when affliction in sternness had spoken, So that thy heart in that moment seemed broken, Far from thy thoughts in thy suffering riven Were both earth and heaven,- Then, oh, I saw then: thy joy and thy grieving Ever the bounds of the mortal were cleaving. All seems so little where silent we ponder,- But room they have yonder.