Public Opinion,  “Too Late”

She lies so still the livelong day, She doth not move or speak; The roses long have died away Upon her dainty cheek. I spoke her harshly yestermorn— Her agonized surprise, It haunts me now—and for my scorn The lovelight in her eyes! And now each bitter word I said Accentuates my pain— Each taunt I leveled at the dead Has burnt into my brain. Who is the wiser? I, whose feet Must tread an earthly hell? Or she who hears that welcome sweet, "Fair spirit, all is well?" Though God forgive me in His grace, When I have "crossed the bar," When I shall meet her face to face Beyond the morning star. I dare not think that even there, Within the gates of gold, My soul will show to her as fair As in the days of old. The dear dead days of long ago, Whose tale was told above, When in our hearts we felt the glow, The rosy dawn of love!