You were so wonderful with quiet faith;
Only the Saints and martyrs of the earth
Held such unalterable high thoughts of death,
As those which filled you from your hour of birth.
And when we were together, many a time,
We felt the Presences of Unseen Guests:
And you saw visions, mystical, sublime,
Where forth your spirit went on astral quests.

Yet at the crucial hour when you were called
To leave me here, there was no sign---no sign!
God surely saw me stricken and appalled--
Surely He might have eased such woe as mine.
Oh! fling my failing faith some bit of fuel,
Lest God shall seem or impotent, or cruel!

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

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