Love And Sorrow

I thought our love at full, but I did err; Joy's wreath drooped o'er mine eyes; I could not see That sorrow in our happy world must be Love's deepest spokesman and interpreter. But, as a mother feels her child first stir Under her heart, so felt I instantly Deep in my soul another bond to thee Thrill with that life we saw depart from her. O mother of our angel-child! twice dear! Death knits as well as parts, and still, I wis, Her tender radiance shall enfold us here; Even as the light borne up by inward bliss Threads the void glooms of space without a fear, To print on farthest stars her pitying kiss.