XII.
CONSOLATION.
1
In the sorrow of this silence
Which I bear, from thee apart,
I know I'm present still, Dear!
With the blood in thy young heart.
2
I know that i' the morn and eve,
Whilst sitting by thy parlour-fire,
Thy thoughts still turn to me, Dear!
With the pining of desire.
3
Through the green lanes and the woodlets
As thou strayest, pensive-eyed,
I know that in thy thoughts, Dear!
I'm press'd to thy warm side.
4
As thou pausest to converse
With the Daisy, in its quiet,
Thou pitiest my changed fate, Dear!—
Enslaved to the town's riot!
5
That universal, deathless flower,
In summer's sun and winter's weather—
The lamb of the sweet flowers, Dear!—
We oft have bless'd together.
6
It is a link between us ever;
Creator of love-presence real!
And whilst we've one to gaze on, Dear!
Absence is a thing ideal.
7
I know I'm ever with thee, Dear!
In thy heart and in thy brain;
And with the balmy knowledge, Dear!
My heart redeems its pain!
8
In the sorrow of this silence
Which I bear, from thee apart,
I know I'm living warm, Dear!
With the blood in thy full heart!