John Hartley

(1839-1917 / England)

Too Late - Poem by John Hartley

How should I know,
That day when first we met,
I Would be a day
I never can forget?
And yet 'tis so.
That clasp of hands that made my heartstrings thrill,
Would not die out, but keeps vibrating still?
How should I know?

How should I know,
That those bright eyes of thine
Would haunt me yet?
And through Grief's dark cloud shine,
With that same glow?
That thy sweet smile, so full of trust and love,
Should, beaming still, a priceless solace prove?
How should I know?

How should I know
That one so good and fair,
Would condescend
To spare a thought, or care,
For one so low?
I dared not hope such bliss could be in store;--
How dare I who had known no love before?
How should I know?

But now I know--
Too late, alas! the prize
Can ne'er be mine,
Yet do I hug the pain,
And bless the blow,
Knowing I love, and am loved in return,
Is bliss undying whilst Life's lamp shall burn.
Yes, now I know.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, September 14, 2010

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