The Triumph of Love By Edmond Holmes |
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 | The Triumph of Love |  |
LXI
No more, Belovèd, must we meet no more?No more make fond exchange of word and thought?
Has love made shipwreck on despair's bleak shore?
Is life a failure? Are the dead years nought?
Nought—O my queen? Nay, there's no cloud so black
But it will break at last and fade away;
And I shall yet summon the dead years back,
And weave them all into one timeless day.
For love will guide me through the night of death,
Into the land where love-worn souls find rest,
Dreaming at will, while life renews its breath,—
Dreaming the dream of love that each loves best:—
There at my will the Past shall live again,
And reap as rapture what it sowed as pain.
| The Triumph of Love | |