Frederick Tennyson (1807–1898)

“O, SURE,” some said, “to her kind Heaven hath dealt

Freedom from earthly penance, that can share

The common ills of others, and their care

Surely so free a heart hath never felt

The fetters of great sorrows, that can melt

With simple tears, and laugh with simple joys.”

Alas! they had not heard the hidden sighs

Folded within thy conscience, pure of guilt:

There was another’s heart that answered thee;

He grew beside thee, till your hopes were one;

Far off he sleeps, afar beyond the sea;

And thou hast vowed through Death’s great gates alone

To pass into thy bridal, and to lay

His image near thee on thy dying day.