My earthly friends, however occupied,
With their own joys or troubles, came or sent
Some sympathetic message! Each one tried
To soothe the heart by sudden anguished rent.
But from that Higher Realm where you have flown
And from that God we worshipped well and long,
There comes no signal that my need is known---
No spirit whisper bidding me be strong.

God has so many angels, realm or realm
Of varying rand and knowledge and degree:
Could he not lend just one to take the helm
And guide through space a spirit-ship to me?
A thousand human hearts my grief has stirred:
My God, my Robert, why have you no word?

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

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