Classic Poem

The love of one who never spoke
A word to her he loved the best,
Whose hidden worship never woke
A thought in her unconscious breast;
The love of one who truly tried
To live for her sweet sake alone,
With thought and labour sanctified
As if herself had seen and known;
The love of one who once or twice,
Just for a moment, held her gaze,
And gathered there a thought of price
To cheer the darkness of the days;
The love of one who looks to stand,
With freer friendship, face to face,
And hear her voice and touch her hand
In the communion of God's grace;
The love of one whose grievous care
Is calmed and tempered by that faith,
With half a cry, and half a prayer,
Twines to her memory this wreath.