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TO MY HEART.
69
Take cheer, poor heart, remembering what he said,
And how of thy lost youth he missed no grace,
But saw some subtler beauty in thy face,
So well he loved thee.
And how of thy lost youth he missed no grace,
But saw some subtler beauty in thy face,
So well he loved thee.
It may be, on Time's farther shore, the dead
Love the sweet shades of those they missed on this,
And dream, in heavenly rest, of earth's lost bliss,—
So he shall love thee.
Love the sweet shades of those they missed on this,
And dream, in heavenly rest, of earth's lost bliss,—
So he shall love thee.
Till then take cheer, poor, silent, aching heart
Content thee with the face he once found fair,
Mourn not for fading bloom or time-touched hair,
Since he hath loved thee.
Content thee with the face he once found fair,
Mourn not for fading bloom or time-touched hair,
Since he hath loved thee.
