Age or youth are nothing, are nothing or soon or late,
When the heart to heart makes answer and joyful face to face.
Where hast thou tarried, my Love, while I waited and missed thee long,
One of the two shall question, and the other shall make reply,
In a voice of gladness and triumph, less like unto speech than song,
“I knew not that I was a hungered till God sent thee as supply.”
The world may crowd and question, but friends are always alone,
Set in bright atmosphere, like a planet in far-off skies;
A touch, a glance, a sigh, love comprehends its own,
And words are feeble and poor compared with the spark of the eyes.