Poems (Greenwell)/To my Friends at ———
TO MY FRIENDS AT ———.
This love of ours hath been Awhile mislaid, it never could be lost; I did not fear for it, yet somewhat crossed My spirit mournfully, as o'er the grass The little cloudlets darken as they pass. It was a shadow from without that swept The sunshine off our spirits, yet I wept, So much I missed that sunshine! Sad and strange It seemed to me that any chill should creep Across our Love; yet patient o'er its sleep I watched and warmed it safe through every change, Until it wakened smiling! All things came As they had been of old, yet not the same, For nought returns again! but far more sure, More deep our trust, more fitted to endure Life's changeful skies; we mourn not for that fled First April bloom; we count not up the cost Of that sweet blossom on the breezes sped,— The ripened fruit need fear no after-frost!