Verse > Anthologies > Alfred H. Miles, ed. > The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century
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Alfred H. Miles, ed.  The Sacred Poets of the Nineteenth Century.  1907.
 
Poems.
III. For the Desolate
By Henry Septimus Sutton (1825–1901)
 
WHEN, though no loving accents fall
  In snows upon thy parchèd brow,
Yet others unto others call
  To give the kiss or breathe the vow;
Then let thy love for them beguile        5
  The self-love that would in thee rise,
And bid a softly-welling smile
  Warm once again thy frozen eyes.
 
When o’er thy brain the passion flows
  And rolls into thine eyes its tears,        10
Because thy soul no solace knows
  Of answering hopes and answering fears.
Then dash thy tears down as they swell,
  And give thy grief a strong control,
And with a stern derision quell        15
  The rising anguish of thy soul.
 
When thy lone dreams sweet visions see
  And loving looks upon thee shine,
And loving lips speak joys to thee
  That never, never may be thine;        20
Then press thy hand hard on thy side,
  And force down all the swelling pain;
Trust me, the wound, however wide,
  Shall close at last, and heal again.
 
Think not of what is from thee kept;        25
  Think, rather, what thou hast received:
Thine eyes have smiled, if they have wept;
  Thy heart has danced, if it has grieved.
Rich comforts yet shall be thine own;
  Yea, God Himself shall wipe thine eyes;        30
And still His love alike is shown
  In what He gives, and what denies.
 
 
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