Page:Poems Terry, 1861.djvu/182

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DOUBT.
The bee knows honey,
And the blossoms light,
Day the dawning,
Stars the night;
The slow, glad river
Knows its sea;
Is it true, Love,
I know not thee?

When the Summer
Brings snow-drifts piled,
When the planets
Go wandering wild,
When the old hill-tops
Valleys be,—
Tell me true, Love,
Shall I know thee?

Where'er I wander,
By sea or shore,