IT IS WELL
No more I see thee, O sun of flame and glow!
Yet feel the grey days' pallor all unsweet;
I have had pain; I need some gladness now;
No more I see thee, O sun of flame and glow!
But I have thy heat.
No more I see the splendour of the rose,
But God hath chosen each one's lot—content!
Not sheen, but soul of things for me He chose;
No more I see the splendour of the rose,
But I have her scent.
I see it not, thy look that loveth me;
The look I feel is on me. What of this?
It matters not; regret were blasphemy;
I see it not, thy look that loveth me,
But I have thy kiss.
Closed are mine eyes, but what of shadow or gloom?
Oh, too much light have I around, above,
For any darkness on my life to come!
Closed are mine eyes, but what of shadow or gloom,
When I have love?
From the French ‘Qu'importe?’ of Berthe de Calonne.
