Emily Pfeiffer

1827-1890 / England

To L. C. Smith

YOU marvel, lady, you whose tender soul
Is all subdued to love, that Love still near
Had power in face of death, to cast out fear,
And in the teeth of loss, to silence dole.
But Love, great Love, he knows not such control
Of law as binds the planet to his sphere;
With Love 'tis ever now, and always here,
And he in body's sickness is most whole.

As Love and Joy are of one being, so
When Love is in ascendant in the heart,
Then Joy too shines, albeit in guise of woe,
Until, from the belovèd rent apart,
His God-lit face appearing from afar,
Pierces our night of thought—a guiding star.
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