Perhaps
THERE was a man, once, and a woman
Whose love was so entire
That an angel, watching them,
Said wistfully, “Would I were no angel
But a mortal,
Loving so, and so beloved!”
.... Yet, when these two mated,
A muddied drop, from some forgotten vial of ancestry,
Brought them a child whose mind was dark;
Who lived—and never called them by their names...
.... They tended her
For twenty years.
Only when she died
Did they weep, whispering,
“Why?”
The years could find no answer,
Though they went questioning
Until the end.
Still wondering
They wandered out into the other country....
It was lonely there,
Being parted from familiar things,
And there was no one to answer questions,
But, suddenly,
(As a wind blows or a swallow flies against the sun)
Came a young girl—eager!
She ran to them,
Calling dear names,
(Names that would open heaven)
“Who are you?” they entreated, trembling....
But they knew!—
Had they not dreamed her so
For twenty years?