TO THE BELOVED

Beloved, when the tides of life run low As sobbing echoes of a dead refrain, And I may sit and watch the silent rain And muse upon the fulness of my woe, Then is my burden lighter, for I know The roses of my heart shall bloom again The fairer for this plenitude of pain, And Summer shall forget the chilly snow. But when life calls me to its revels gay And I must face the world's wide-gazing eyes Nor find sweet rest by night or peace by day, E'en seems your love, where I would turn for aid, As distant as the blue in sunny skies; Then am I very lonely and afraid.