Poems (Whitney)/Lines—all's to gain

by Anne Whitney

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   All's to gain,
All is to come between us twain!
   O never can serve
 Fruition and conquered reserve
 To feed the soul with a bliss,
   So momently waking,
 So troubled, but deep as death,
With a surface doubt and an under faith
   Over it breaking,—
 As this which we feel—as this!