Menella Bute Smedley

Parting

Not by thy side, but in thy heart
'Tis mine to dwell;
We scorn to utter when we part
That feeble word, “Farewell.”
Lift up thy weeping eyes, and be
Worthy the throne I keep for thee.
Like some deep well where at noonday
The stars yet shine;
My soul seeks darkness that it may
Hold all the light of thine;
And thou, my trembling star, must be,
Pure as the shrine I make for thee.
Upon my love thy soul may rest
As still and safe,
As wild-flowers in a rocky nest
Where billows vainly chafe.
Alas, poor flower! thou canst not be
Strong as the rock which shelters thee!