I know my heart has always been devout,
And faith burned in me like a clear white flame,
There was no room among my thoughts for doubt,
Though hopes were thwarted and though sorrows came,
God seemed a living Presence, kind and just
And ever near. Yea, even in great grief
When parents, friends and offspring turn to dust
He stood beside me, refuge and relief.

But when one hideous night you went away
Deaf to my cry and to my pleadings dumb,
You took God with you. Now in vain I pray
And beg Him to return: He does not come:
Nor has He sent one Angel from his horde
To comfort me with some convincing word.

Sonnets of sorrow and triumph. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
New York: George H. Doran, 1918.

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