Chapter 21 Consolation
All are not taken; there are left behind
Living Beloveds, tender looks to bring
And make the daylight still a happy thing,
And tender voices, to make soft the wind:
But if it were not so—if I could find
No love in all this world for comforting,
Nor any path but hollowly did ring
Where dust to dust the love from life disjoind;
And if, before those sepulchres unmoving
I stood alone (as some for saken lamb
Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth)
Crying Where are ye, O my loved and loving?—
I know a voice would sound, Daughter, I AM.
Can I suffice for Heaven and not for Earth?