500

One hour yet. One hour be not free

of toil or of trial here with me.

My bones: here merely to be here with thee.

My blood: that I might all thy sorrows see.

Not near enough to simply live life here—

I sought to know the cause of every tear.

I wanted to know how thy heart might fear;

and how I know it now, and know it dear.

This is the hour that I stay with thee.

This moment when I will not choose to free

myself from seeing all the pain men see.

Wilt thou, too, stay an hour here with me?

I ask not that thy hour be so low,

but see the garden where, for thee, I go.