What is thy loss to mine? For three long years
This love of thee tinged my devoted life
With such blank woe—such utter misery—
That I was fain—hope being dead to me—
To sit apart, and wait the far-off end.
Then, when the end seemed yet too far away,
The bright, blue Heaven shone through the lowering clouds,
For he whom I had mourned as dead, came back,
To claim my love and crown it with his own!
At last, at last, I hold thee by the hand!