I wore a jewel on my breast,
Nor knew, till late, that it was such;
Oft hath it robbed me of my rest;
Oft have I shivered at its touch!
I wore it, trembling, and I knew
Nor why it was, in fact, nor how
Its presence fell like evening dew
On shrinking heart, and lip and brow!
It was a thing of pain, and yet
A subtile blessing seemed to flow
From‘ neath its touch, though eyes were wet
As from the stab of ruthless foe!
Not until years had fled did I
Behold the inner presence there;
Not until Time had passed all by,
Did I perceive its beauty rare.
But now I know thee as thou art,
O Face divine that lookest down
Upon my life and bruised heart;
And fear of thee fore'er hath flown!
Thou shalt walk with me, as I know,
For the brief space of years to be;
A newer, higher path to show
Where sorrow wins me purity!