Page:Poems Terry, 1861.djvu/182

DOUBT.

The bee knows honey,
 And the blossoms light,
Day the dawning,
 Stars the night;
The slow, glad river
 Knows its sea;
Is it true, Love,
 I know not thee?

When the Summer
 Brings snow-drifts piled,
When the planets
 Go wandering wild,
When the old hill-tops
 Valleys be,—
Tell me true, Love,
 Shall I know thee?

Where'er I wander,
 By sea or shore,