WHEN hides the sun behind a bank of cloud, <br />Though well we know the sun is shining still, <br />No less the shadow falls on down and hill, <br />And the bright hues grow dull as brows grief-bowed. <br />So, when thou goest from me into the crowd, <br />Though well I know thy love through good and ill <br />Shines steadfastly, thy going seems to fill <br />The world with shade--turn sunshine to a shroud. <br /> <br /> <br />But when through clouds the sun returns to bless <br />Hill, field, and wood with his divine caress, <br />Ah, how the colours start to life again! <br />So after absence, when thou comest back <br />Bright grows the whole thought-world that was so black, <br />And my heart sings to feel the sunshine then.<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/parting-33/
