Till Time shall work him a cure...

For my Great Uncle Raymond and
Aunt Wendy (RIP 1/27/2010).

The Widower

For a season there must be pain-

For a little, little space

I shall lose the sight of her face,

Take back the old life again

While she is at rest in her place.

For a season this pain must endure,

For a little, little while

I shall sigh more often than smile

Till Time shall work me a cure,

And the pitiful days beguile.

For that season we must be apart,

For a little length of years,

Till my life's last hour nears,

And, above the beat of my heart,

I hear Her voice in my ears.

But I shall not understand-

Being set on some later love,

Shall not know her for whom I strove,

Till she reach me forth her hand,

Saying, "Who but I have the right?"

And out of a troubled night

Shall draw me safe to the land.

-- Rudyard Kipling