Before Love came my eyes were dim with tears,

Because I had not known her gentle face;

Softly I said: “But when across the years

Her smile illumes the darkness of my place,

All grief from my poor heart she will efface.”

Now Love is mine—she walks with me for aye

Down paths of primrose and blue violet;

But on my heart at every close of day

A grief more keen than my old grief is set,—

I weep for those who have not found Love yet!