HER love was that full love which, like a tide, <br /> Flows in and out life's smallest gulfs and bays, <br /> And fills with music through long summer days <br />Cold hearts that else would stern and dark abide. <br />Her smile would cheer, her faintest look could chide; <br />5 <br /> No soul too outcast, none too lowly born, <br /> For her kind ear; and none too high for scorn <br />Of mean pretence, or wrong, or foolish pride. <br />She loved all Nature; mountain, stream, and tree <br /> To her were thoughts or language for the thought <br />10 <br /> She could not utter, signs of truths too high <br />To set to words. Her love, too, like a tide, <br /> Flowed daily back with cares its surface brought <br /> To the still vast beneath eternal sky.<br /><br />Frederick George Scott<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-memoriam-e-s/
