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Poem	THERE were many burning hours on the heartsweet tide, And we passed away from ourselves, forgetting all The immortal moods that faded, the god who died, Hastening away to the King on a distant call. There were ruby dews were shed when the heart was riven, And passionate pleading and prayers to the dead we had wronged; And we passed away, unremembering and unforgiven, Hastening away to the King for the peace we longed. Love unremembered and heart-ache we left behind, We forsook them, unheeding, hastening away in our flight; We knew the hearts we had wronged of old we would find When we came to the fold of the King for rest in the night.
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