While forced to dwell apart from thy dear face
Love, robed like sorrow, led me by the hand
And taught my doubting heart to understand
That which has puzzled all the human race.
Full many a sage has questioned where in space
Those counter worlds were? where the mystic strand
That separates them: I have found each land,
And Hell is vast, and Heaven a narrow space.
In the small compass of thy clasping arms
In reach and sight of thy dear lips and eyes
There, there for me the joy of heaven lies.
Outside, lo! chaos, terrors' wild alarms
And all the desolation fierce and fell
Of void and aching nothingness, makes Hell.
Poems of sentiment by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Chicago, IL : W. B. Conkey Company, c1906.
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