Philip Joseph Holdsworth

Quis Separabit?

All my life's short years had been stern and sterile —
 I stood like one whom the blasts blow back —
As with shipmen whirled through the straits of Peril,
 So fierce foes menaced my every track.

But I steeled my soul to a strong endeavour,
 I bared my brow as the sharp strokes fell,
And I said to my heart — "Hope on! Hope ever:
 Have Courage — Courage, and all is well."

Then, bright as the blood in my heart's rich chalice,
 O Blossom, Blossom! — you came from far;
And life rang joy, till the World's loud malice
 Shrilled to the edge of our utmost star.

And I said: "On me let the rough storms hurtle,
 The great clouds gather and shroud my sun —
But you shall be Queen where the rose and myrtle
 Laugh with the year till the year is done."

So my Dream fell dead; and the fluctuant passion —
 The stress and strain of the past re-grew,
The world laughed on in its heedless fashion,
 But Earth whirled worthless, because of you!

In that Lake of Tears which my grief discovered,
 I laid dead Love with a passionate kiss,
And over those soundless depths has hovered
 The sweet, sad wraith of my vanished bliss.

Heart clings to Heart — let the strange years sever
 The fates of two who had met — to part;
Love's strength survives, and the harsh world never
 Shall crush the passion of heart for heart;

For I know my life, though it droop and dwindle,
 Shall leave me Love till I fade and die,
And when hereafter our Souls re-kindle,
 Who shall be fonder — You or I?

My Queen of Dreams

In the warm flushed heart of the rose-red west,
 When the great sun quivered and died to-day,
You pulsed, O star, by yon pine-clad crest —
 And throbbed till the bright eve ashened grey —
    Then I saw you swim
    By the shadowy rim
Where the grey gum dips to the western plain,
    And you rayed delight
    As you winged your flight
To the mystic spheres where your kinsmen reign.

O star, did you see her? My queen of dreams!
 Was it you that glimmered the night we strayed
A month ago by these scented streams?
 Half-checked by the litter the musk-buds made?
    Did you sleep or wake?
    Ah, for Love's sweet sake
(Though the world should fail and the soft stars wane!)
    I shall dream delight
    Till our souls take flight
To the mystic spheres where your kinsmen reign!