Life Returning

After War-time. O LIFE, dear life, with sunbeam finger touching This poor damp brow, or flying freshly by On wings of mountain wind, or tenderly In links of visionary embraces clutching Me from the yawning grave-- Can I believe thou yet hast power to save? I see thee, O my life, like phantom giant Stand on the hill-top, large against the dawn, Upon the night-black clouds a picture drawn Of aspect wonderful, with hope defiant, And so majestic grown I scarce discern the image as my own. Those mists furl off, and through the vale resplendent I see the pathway of my years prolong; Not without labor, yet for labor strong; Not without pain, but pain whose touch transcendent By love's divinest laws Heart unto heart, and all hearts upwards, draws. O life, O love, your diverse tones bewildering Make silence, like two meeting waves of sound; I dream of wifely white arms, lisp of children-- Never of ended wars, Save kisses scaling honorable scars. No more of battles! Save the combat glorious To which all earth and heaven may witness stand; The sword of the Spirit taking in my hand I shall go forth, since in new fields victorious The King yet grants that I His servant live, or His good soldier die.