The Rosary

THE HOURS I spent with thee, dear heart,

Are as a string of pearls to me;

I count them over, every one apart,

My rosary.

Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer,

To still a heart in absence wrung;

I tell each bead unto the end—and there

A cross is hung.

Oh, memories that bless—and burn!

Oh, barren gain—and bitter loss!

I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn

To kiss the cross,

Sweetheart,

To kiss the cross.