• Author: Unknown
• Editor:
• Newspaper: The Umpire volume V
• Page Number:
• Date: 6 26 1918
• Tags:
• poetry

THE QUESTION

Dear, when I come back to you, In a coming Golden Day, Will I find you false, or true? Will you bid me go, or stay?

For the burden of these years, Shall I find a sweet-redress? Recompense for all my tears, In your added tenderness.

Should I look into your eyes, And no answering spark be there; Freedom were a sorry prize, Knowing that you did not care.

If I should but find a grave, Hidden in the grasses high; Holding all that I would have, What were left me but to die?

I would have you greet me thus: Like to lovers parted long; Remembering the olden trust, Forgetful of the olden wrong.

I would have my weary head, Lie upon your bosum’s snow; While some tender word you said Selling all that I would know:

Saying, ‘‘I was ever brave,’’ Answering, ‘‘I was ever true.’’ This the greeting that I crave, Dear, when I come back to you.