What blossom have you brought to-day,
Beside my pillow, dear, to lay?
⁠Come, let me see my prize.
A velvet pansy, large and fair,
With petals yellow as your hair,
⁠And purple as your eyes.

I think I know the very spot.
Where, bordered with forget-me-not,
⁠This lovely blossom grew;
We knew that pansy bed of old,
A sweet, swift story there was told,
⁠Between black eyes and blue.

It seems but yesterday we stood,
Each unto each God's greatest good,
⁠Beneath the morning sky!
We stood as lovers stand, to part,
(But hand from hand, not heart from heart),
⁠With lingering good-bye.

Upon your snow-white dress you wore
One blossom, plucked an hour before.
⁠While still the dew was wet:
A purple pansy, fair as this,
I took it, with your first shy kiss;
⁠I have that blossom yet.

We thought our fate was hard that day.
But, darling, we have learned to say,
⁠"Whatever is, is best."
That far-off parting which is o'er.
Foretold one longer, on before.
⁠Awaiting which we rest.

We wait as friends and lovers do.
Each reading true heart through and through,
⁠Until that parting come.
Then if you speak I shall not hear,
I shall not feel your presence near.
⁠Nor answer. Death is dumb.

You may bring pansies, too, that day.
To spread above the senseless clay.
⁠But none so sweet as this;
And never one like that dear flower,
You gave me in love's dawning hour.
⁠With your shy clinging kiss.

I may not give you courage strong.
And help and counsel all life long,
⁠As once I hoped to do.
But, love, be fearless, faithful, brave;
The pansies on my quiet grave
⁠May bring heart's-ease for you.

Not in my way nor at my time
⁠My heart's petitions answer gain;
I ask, and all my days are full
⁠Of longing that I may attain.
"This time," I cry, "do not delay;
Give me the boon I ask to-day."
 
But opportunity goes by.
⁠And while I pray my lips are fed
With something that I have not asked.
⁠Nay, what I wanted not, instead.
But still the food is sweet, I find.
And leaves no taste of gall behind.

The Master's hand has blessed the gift.
⁠And so it must be good for me;
And yet my heart goes sighing still
⁠For that which I had hoped to see.
No pain or labour would I spare
If he would only grant this prayer.

I see the hands of others filled
⁠With that which I have been denied;
And they care not, but scorn perchance.
⁠Because they are so well supplied.
I see and pray {whate'er my quest),
"Lord, let me know when I am blest!"

I wander on, nor e'er forget
⁠The treasure that I crave the most.
And think "Perhaps it is too late,
⁠All opportunity is lost;"
When lo! I see the blessing sweet
Is lying, fair, beneath my feet!

Strange, strange for thee and me
⁠⁠Sadly afar;
Thou safe, beyond, above,
⁠⁠I 'neath the star;
Thou where flowers deathless spring,
⁠⁠I where they fade;
Thou in God's paradise,
⁠⁠I 'mid the shade.

Thou where each gale breathes balm,
⁠⁠I tempest-tossed;
Thou where true joy is found,
⁠⁠I where 'tis lost.
Thou counting ages thine,
⁠⁠I not the morrow;
Thou learning more of bliss,
⁠⁠I more of sorrow.

Thou in eternal peace,
⁠⁠I 'mid earth's strife;
Thou where care hath no name,
⁠⁠I where 'tis life.
Thou without need of hope,
⁠⁠I where 'tis vain;
Thou with wings dropping light,
⁠⁠I with time's chain.

Strange, strange for thee and me.
⁠⁠Loved, loving ever;
Thou by life's deathless fount,
⁠⁠I near death's river;
Thou winning wisdom's lore,
⁠⁠I strength to trust;
Thou 'mid the seraphim,
⁠⁠I in the dust.