Classic Poem

Dost thou behold some woeful soul
With bitter weeping blighted,
Thy tears that rise do not control,
But let them flow united.
A gentle word, a true caress,
The darkest woe has tided:
Then join in prayer; all grief is less
When tenderly divided. Alternative:
Full half when 'tis divided. both absurd
But should it be an eye in beams
Of Love's own rosy sparkles,
Arrest thy step, keep thy dreams
Where thy own yearning darkles.
For Love is to itself enough,
And in itself lives only:
Divided Love is less than Love.
Then must thy prayer be lonely.