Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/186

 Left dim and void when Hope's own sun Dare not shine— In place of all and every one, You divine!

I know the splendour that you were— —You shall be; I see that nothing is so fair As you there; I know that you—the thing I crave— Men shall see Again, when I am in the grave, —After me.

O, whose shall be the barren years? Whose the tears? God, who of all this world of ours Gathers flowers —Taketh and maketh heaven, and faileth Not at all, Maketh a heaven that prevaileth Out of all—