Poems

We never meet; yet we meet day by day

Upon those hills of life, dim and immense:

The good we love, and sleep—our innocence.

O hills of life, high hills! And higher than they,

Our guardian spirits meet at prayer and play.

Beyond pain, joy, and hope, and long suspense,

Above the summits of our souls, far hence,

An angel meets an angel on the way.

Beyond all good I ever believed of thee

Or thou of me, these always love and live.

And though I fail of thy ideal of me,

My angel falls not short. They greet each other.

Who knows, they may exchange the kiss we give,

Thou to thy crucifix, I to my mother.