| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XXXIV. Compensation
A Prayer of Petrarcke and of Laura | | Anonymous |
| | | WHERE mourn the birds, or where the green young boughs | |
| Are gently moving in the summer air, | |
| Or the clear water as it bubbling flows | |
| Is heard from flowery banks, surpassing fair: | |
| There while I sit with pensive Love, and write | 5 |
| Of her, who lost to earth, yet lives on high, | |
| I pause, and listen if I hear aright | |
| From so far, any answer to my sigh:— | |
| Yes! ’tis that well-known voice that fills mine ear, | |
| And says, ‘Why waste the life which dear I deemed? | 10 |
| Why flows unceasingly that bitter tear? | |
| For me weep not—I, when Death’s blow was given, | |
| Immortal grew; and when to you they seemed | |
| For ever closed, these eyes awoke in Heaven.’ | | | | |
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