Chapter 20 Comfort

SPEAK low to me, my Saviour, low and sweet From out the hallelujahs, sweet and low Lest I should fear and fall, and miss Thee so Who art not missed by any that entreat. Speak to mo as to Mary at thy feet ! And if no precious gums my hands bestow, Let my tears drop like amber while I go In reach of thy divinest voice complete In humanest affection -- thus, in sooth, To lose the sense of losing. As a child, Whose song-bird seeks the wood for evermore Is sung to in its stead by mothers mouth Till, sinking on her breast, love-reconciled, He sleeps the faster that he wept before.