Verse > Anthologies > Andrew Macphail, ed. > The Book of Sorrow
Andrew Macphail, comp.  The Book of Sorrow.  1916.
XXXV. 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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