With never a dream of the life that is,
With never a wish for the love known here.
And yet, if to-day an angel spake
From the clouds all white with veil'd snow-shine,
What matter to human hearts that break,
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What to a heart so weak as mine?
None other - none better, if that might be -
Can thrill my blood with a tone or touch,
Like you, uncaring, can win from me
With the least of little, so much, so much!
Let me not blame you to your face!
I know to another friend how sweet;
Nay, even to your dog, what pitying grace,
What care for the stones beneath your feet!
Room and to spare in your heart, I know:
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The Chapel Service.
