Xi

Without, you seem forgotten. Am I sad Or happy? None can tell. The lonely days Recur, and draw me on the beaten ways Of all who strive and toil. The things I had Remain; all daily happenings, good or bad, Fall as they did: success and loss, delays That sweeten victory: the balance sways Unceasingly, makes heavy, or makes glad. And this is life, such as the world demands. Within, 'tis otherwise; for in the far Depths where my soul recoiled sits, there are No echoes of such wisdom; there my hands Are folded, and in yours: I seek your eyes, Your voice, your smile.... Within, 'tis otherwise.