Separation
And so we go our ways.
The world is wide,
And here with outward sweep our paths divide.
We go our ways.
And for to-morrow?
There are faces new,
New hands to clasp, new waiting deeds to do;—
All for to-morrow.
Doth aught remain?
For me the pangs that live
In separation. But for you who strive
For a white saint-hood, holy joys that thrive
On pain remain.
The world is wide,
And here with outward sweep our paths divide.
We go our ways.
And for to-morrow?
There are faces new,
New hands to clasp, new waiting deeds to do;—
All for to-morrow.
Doth aught remain?
For me the pangs that live
In separation. But for you who strive
For a white saint-hood, holy joys that thrive
On pain remain.
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