Aye, wet the shattered edges daintily,1
Place them together in the ancient shape,2
Match hue and fair design with careful eye,3
And let no fragment from your search escape ;4
So, place the cup where no keen sunlights glance.5
Pshaw, does such injured beauty pay your pain ?6
’Twill hold a mimic waxen bud, perchance,7
But never water for a rose again 8
Unsay the angry words; the charge recall ;9
Deny or plead away doubt, slight, or sneer ;10
Before the outraged shrine for pardon fall,11
Win back the smile with the forgiving tear ;12
The happy “ safety of affection lost,13
Trust and its frank free gladness fled together,14
What boots to feign the faith, to count the cost ?15
The wounded love will bear the scar for ever.16
Ah, keep the precious porcelain in its niche,17
Guard close the fragile darlings of the heart,18
Oh, ye, in life’s pure treasures proud and rich ;19
The fruit and its first bloom are light to part ;20
Dread one rough touch ; no time again can give,21
Once gone, or perfect form or fearless faith ;22
In prayer and patience mourn it while ye live,23
And hope to win it back in heaven through death.24