Anne Whitney

1821-1915

 

All's to gain...

by Anne Whitney

All's to gain,
All is to come between us twain!
O never can serve
Fruition and conquered reserve
To feed the soul with a bliss,
So momently waking,
So troubled, but deep as death,
With a surface doubt and an under faith
Over it breaking, --
As this which we feel -- as this!

Source:

Poems
Copyright 1859
346 & 348 Broadway
D. Appleton & Company
New York
 
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