O thou beloved, who shouldst have been mine own,
Serenely beautiful and wise and strong,
Consoler whom my life has never known,
How have I missed thee, seeking thee alone
All my life long?

Somewhere upon the wide and misty track
I strayed behind, or did not wait for thee,
And so must always mourn my bitter lack,
Since on this weary road we go not back,
Ah, woe is me!

Often, with sorely burdened heart and mind,
When there were none to aid or understand,
How have I groped, with tears, alone and blind,
In the thick darkness, longing but to find
Thy helpful hand!

For I believed that Love is doubly armed
Against all foes, and with unshaken breath
Could pass through pain and suffering unalarmed,
Could take up poisonous things yet not be harmed,
And dare even death.

" And how shall Love, immortal and sublime, "
I said, " be hindered of its best estate
By any petty chance of space or time? "
Alas, my life has lost its freshest prime,
And still I wait.

How beautiful our mingled lives had been
Had we but found each other in our youth!
The world had grown, despite its stain and sin,
Sweeter because we two had lived therein
Our utter truth.

Then all the myriad ills which Fate contrives
Wherewith to fret men's hearts, to us had been
But motes along the sunshine of our lives;
Naught could have harmed us, since the true soul thrives
By discipline.

Then this unending toil and ceaseless toss
Had never marred my life; the hindering load
Of worldly circumstance, of gain or loss,
Had seemed to us but cobwebs, stretched across
Our upward road.

Where art thou, love? Far as the farthest pole,
Hast thou, too, vaguely dreamed of what should be?
Or, mated early with some feebler soul,
Hast struggled with thy bonds in grief and dole,
Longing for me?

I had been more than all the world to thee,
So proudly tender, so entirely true,
So wise and tireless in my ministry,
More dear than any other soul could be,
All my life through.

Alas! the sun's last glimmering has kissed
The highest mountain-tops to gold; and now
The crimson west has changed to amethyst,
And all the vale is dim with chilly mist,
But where art thou?

Too late! too late! the darkness gathereth,
And the night falleth, pitiless and dumb.
I cannot reach thee with this hopeless breath;
But when I walk the other side of death,
Wilt thou not come?