| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XXXV. Consolation
Consolation | | By Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806–1861) |
| | | ALL are not taken; there are left behind | |
| Living Belovèds, tender looks to bring | |
| And make the daylight still a happy thing, | |
| And tender voices, to make soft the wind. | |
| But if it were not so—if I could find | 5 |
| No love in all the world for comforting | |
| Nor any path but hollowly did ring, | |
| Where ‘dust to dust’ the love from life disjoined, | |
| And if, before those sepulchres unmoving, | |
| I stood alone (as some forsaken lamb | 10 |
| Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth), | |
| Crying ‘Where are ye, O my loved and loving?’… | |
| I know a Voice would sound, ‘Daughter, I AM. | |
| Can I suffice for HEAVEN, and not for earth?’ | | | | |
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