Time strives with memory,—then, dear, I would fain
Let be as naught
All I have uttered; and I will refrain
From any whispered wish, or word, or thought,
That might to you in anywise complain.
However much my eager heart may miss,
How much for you my very soul may yearn,
I will seek patience, confident in this,
That some time, surely, Love shall conquer pain,
And then, dear heart, I know you will return.