Thy birthday ends a year of grief and pain,
Of hope deferred, that maketh sick the heart,
Of dreary days, but marked by pain and smart,
Haunting the bed whereon thy form has lain.
And I, poor watcher of thy anguish--fain,
If prayer were answered, to endure thy part--
Stood helpless by, betwixt thee and Death's dart,
Pouring my supplicating tears like rain.
Dark days were those, my darling; but I knew,
Even while I trembled, that the mighty law
Of love, Christ-founded, was without a flaw;
That high within the calm, immortal blue,
The God-born Lover through His glory saw
Our faithful hearts, and to his pledge was true.