The hour which might have been yet might not be, <br />Which man's and woman's heart conceived and bore <br />Yet whereof life was barren,—on what shore <br />Bides it the breaking of Time's weary sea? <br />Bondchild of all consummate joys set free, <br />It somewhere sighs and serves, and mute before <br />The house of Love, hears through the echoing door <br />His hours elect in choral consonancy. <br />But lo! what wedded souls now hand in hand <br />Together tread at last the immortal strand <br />With eyes where burning memory lights love home? <br />Lo! how the little outcast hour has turned <br />And leaped to them and in their faces yearned:— <br />“I am your child: O parents, ye have come!”<br /><br />Dante Gabriel Rossetti<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-lv-stillborn-love/
