Poems By the author of "The Patience of Hope" [i.e. Dora Greenwell] |
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TO MY FRIENDS AT ------. |
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196
TO MY FRIENDS AT ------.
This love of ours hath beenAwhile mislaid, it never could be lost;
I did not fear for it, yet somewhat crossed
My spirit mournfully, as o'er the grass
The little cloudlets darken as they pass.
It was a shadow from without that swept
The sunshine off our spirits, yet I wept,
So much I missed that sunshine! Sad and strange
It seemed to me that any chill should creep
Across our Love; yet patient o'er its sleep
I watched and warmed it safe through every change,
Until it wakened smiling! All things came
As they had been of old, yet not the same,
For nought returns again! but far more sure,
More deep our trust, more fitted to endure
Life's changeful skies; we mourn not for that fled
First April bloom; we count not up the cost
Of that sweet blossom on the breezes sped,—
The ripened fruit need fear no after-frost!
| Poems | |