To a Late-Comer

WHY didst thou come into my life so late?
If it were morning I could welcome thee
With glad all-hails, and bid each hour to be

The willing servitor of thine estate,
Lading thy brave ships with Time’s richest freight,
If it were noonday I might hope to see
On some far height thy banners floating free,

And hear the acclaiming voices call thee great!
But it is nightfall and the stars are out;
Far in the west the crescent moon hangs low,
And near at hand the lurking shadows wait;

Darkness and silence gather roundabout,
Lethe’s black stream is near its overflow, —
Ah, friend, dear friend, why didst thou come so late?