puzzle piece 107

I Shall Not Pass This Way Again

  • (1900)
  • by Eva Rose York
  • I shall not pass this fashion again—
  • Although it bordered be with flowers,
  • Although I residuum in fragrant bowers,
  • And hear the singing
  • Of vocal-birds winging
  • To highest heaven their gladsome flying;
  • Though moons are total and stars are bright,
  • And winds and waves are softly sighing,
  • While leafy trees make depression replying;
  • Though voices clear in joyous strain
  • Repeat a jubilant refrain;
  • Though rising suns their radiance throw
  • On summertime's green and winter's snow,
  • In such rare splendor that my middle
  • Would ache from scenes like these to part;
  • Though beauties heighten,
  • And life-lights burnish,
  • And joys continue from every pain,—
  • I shall not pass this mode again.
  • Then let me pluck the flowers that blow,
  • And let me listen as I get
  • To music rare
  • That fills the air;
  • And let hereafter
  • Songs and laughter
  • Fill every pause forth the fashion;
  • And to my spirit allow me say:
  • "O soul, be happy; soon 'tis trod,
  • The path made thus for thee past God.
  • Be happy, thou, and bless His name
  • By whom such marvellous beauty came."
  • And let no chance by me exist lost
  • To kindness show at any cost.
  • I shall not pass this manner again.
  • Then let me now salve some pain,
  • Remove some barrier from the road,
  • Or brighten someone's heavy load;
  • A helping paw to this 1 lend,
  • Then turn some other to befriend.
  • O God, forgive
  • That I now live
  • As if I might, quondam, render
  • To anoint the weary ones that yearn
  • For help and condolement every 24-hour interval,—
  • For there be such along the way.
  • O God, forgive that I have seen
  • The beauty simply, accept not been
  • Awake to sorrow such as this;
  • That I accept drunk the loving cup of bliss
  • Remembering non that those there be
  • Who drinkable the dregs of misery.
  • I love the beauty of the scene,
  • Would roam over again o'er fields so greenish;
  • But since I may not, let me spend
  • My strength for others to the end,—
  • For those who tread on stone and rock,
  • And bear their burdens all alone,
  • Who loiter non in leafy bowers,
  • Nor hear the birds nor pluck the flowers.
  • A larger kindness requite to me,
  • A deeper love and sympathy;
  • Then, O, one day
  • May someone say—
  • Remembering a lessened pain—
  • "Would she could pass this way over again."