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COUSIN ROBERT.
- O COUSIN Robert, far away
- Among the lands of gold,
- How many years since we two met?—
- You would not like it told.
- O cousin Robert, buried deep
- Amid your bags of gold—
- I thought I saw you yesternight
- Just as you were of old.
- You own whole leagues—I half a rood
- Behind my cottage door;
- You have your lacs of gold rupees,
- And I my children four;
- Your tall barques dot the dangerous seas,
- My “ship’s come home”—to rest
- Safe anchored from the storms of life
- Upon one faithful breast.
- And it would cause no start or sigh,
- Nor thought of doubt or blame,
- If I should teach our little son
- His cousin Robert’s name.—
- That name, however wide it rings,
- I oft think, when alone,
- I rather would have seen it graved
- Upon a churchyard stone—
- Upon the white sunshining stone
- Where cousin Alick lies:
- Ah, sometimes, woe to him that lives!
- Happy is he that dies!
- O Robert, Robert, many a tear—
- Though not the tears of old—
- Drops, thinking of your face last night
- Your hand’s remembered fold;
- A young man’s face, so like, so like
- Our mothers’ faces fair:
- A young man’s hand, so firm to clasp,
- So resolute to dare.
- I thought you good—I wished you great;
- You were my hope, my pride:
- To know you good, to make you great
- I once had happy died.
- To tear the plague‐spot from your heart,
- Place honor on your brow,
- See old age come in crownèd peace—
- I almost would die now!
- Would give—all that’s now mine to give—
- To have you sitting there,
- The cousin Robert of my youth—
- Though beggar’d, with gray hair.
- O Robert, Robert, some that live
- Are dead, long ere they are old;
- Better the pure heart of our youth
- Than palaces of gold;
- Better the blind faith of our youth
- Than doubt, which all truth braves;
- Better to mourn, God’s children dear,
- Than laugh, the Devil’s slaves.
- O Robert, Robert, life is sweet,
- And love is boundless gain:
- Yet if I mind of you, my heart
- Is stabbed with sudden pain:
- And as in peace this Christmas eve
- I close our quiet doors,
- And kiss “good‐night” on sleeping heads—
- Such bonnie curls,—like yours:
- I fall upon my bended knees
- With sobs that choke each word;—
- “On those who err and are deceived
- Have mercy, O good Lord!”
