Consolation
All are not taken; there are left behind
Living Beloveds, tender looks to bring
And make the daylight still a happy thing,
And tender voices, to make soft the wind:
But if it were not so-if I could find
No love in all this world for comforting,
Nor any path but hollowly did ring
Where ‘dust to dust’ the love from life disjoin’d;
And if, before those sepulchres unmoving
I stood alone (as some forsaken lamb
Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth)
Crying “Where are ye, O my loved and loving?”
I know a voice would sound, “Daughter, I AM.
Can I suffice for Heaven and not for earth?”
No comments:
Post a Comment