What have I lost? The faith I had that Right
Must surely prove itself than Ill more strong.
For see how little my poor prayers had might
To save me, at the trial's pinch, from wrong.
What have I lost? The truth of my proud eyes
Scorning deceit. Behold me here to--day
Leading a double life, at shifts with lies,
And trembling lest each shadow should betray.
No longer with my lost ones may I mourn,
Who came to me in sleep and breathed soft words.
Sleepless I lie and fearful and forlorn,
With their love's edge still wounding like a sword's.
In thy dear presence only I find rest.
To thee alone naught needs to be confessed.
Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
