TO KATHARINE. BY J. U. U.
Reading edition
Believe not I forget thee: not for one Dark moment, have I been thus self-divided From that deep consciousness which is for ever The light of all my thoughts; it were to lose My own existence—a chill blank in life: For all is colourless when love deserts The heart—sole centre of all joy and woe; Whose light or gloom all nature wears. Believe My breast still weary till it turns to thee, The load-star of its constant faith—unchanged By distance or by time. For thee it cares: For thee its joys are treasured up untasted, As scattered sweets which the home-loving bee Hoards for its mossy dwelling far away.