To My Heart

In thy long, lonely times, poor aching heart!
When days are slow, and silent nights are sad,
Take cheer, weak heart, remember and be glad,
For some one loved thee.

Some one, indeed, who cared for fading face,
For time-touched hair, and weary-falling arm,
And in thy very sadness found a charm
To make him love thee.

God knows thy days are desolate, poor heart!
As thou dost sit alone, and dumbly wait
For what comes not, or comes, alas! too late,
But some one loved thee.

Take cheer, poor heart, remembering what he said,
And how of thy lost youth he missed no grace,
But saw some subtler beauty in thy face,
So well he loved thee.

It may be, on Time's farther shore, the dead
Love the sweet shades of those they missed on this,
And dream, in heavenly rest, of earth's lost bliss, —
So he shall love thee.

Till then take cheer, poor, silent, aching heart;
Content thee with the face he once found fair,
Mourn not for fading bloom or time-touched hair,
Since he hath loved thee.
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