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1874–1932

XV

Robert Winkworth Norwood

Who is to blame that suddenly there fell Suspicion like a shadow on our souls? Love, who was once supreme, no more controls The harmonies. Hark! Can you hear the bell

Across the valley of our tears that swell The brook called Cedron?‘ Tis a flood that rolls Between us; while Doubt in his tower tolls Love's loss in our dear, shattered miracle.

Was it a word that somehow clouded thought? Was it a flaw in substance of myself That proved two tendencies within me wrought — Plantagenet commingled with the Guelph?

Ah, Love, if so, have patience, and behold How God blends His base metals with the gold.

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XV · Robert Winkworth Norwood · Poetry Cove