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.