Page:Verses–Blanche·Baughan-1898.pdf/71

 “Give me but leave to play my part, And be consoled, thou sick at heart! Ay, upon dreary errands sent With wrested will, and footsteps bent Into a byway, be content! One is but one, two make a world; And two may laugh where one must weep. Whither is bubble Sorrow whirl’d When half is given a friend to keep? Give me my half, whose life so deep In thine lies furl’d!

“Hast heavy trouble? I, too, bear it! Fugitive joy? Yet I, too, share it! The dull ache of the listless sense, The fretted fire, the want immense, The rending passion, the pang intense— Friend! I know all their influence, Comrade! take heart!”