Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Of Future Days

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For other versions of this work, see Of Future Days.


I DO not ask to know
Whither thy spirit after death shall go;
I only ask that I—where'er thou be—
May follow thee.

All torment and regret
Thou, with thy love, couldst teach me to forget;
And heaven—Alas! what hope of heaven for me
Bereft of thee?

Nay: faithless doubt and fear
I lose in Him who gave thee to me, dear!
He would not so unite to rend apart,
Who made the heart!