The hours I spent with thee, dear heart,
Are as a string of pearls to me;
I count them over, every one apart,
Each hour a pearl, each pearl a prayer,
To still a heart in absence wrung;
I tell each bead unto the end — and there
A cross is hung.
Oh, memories that bless — and burn!
Oh, barren gain — and bitter loss!
I kiss each bead, and strive at last to learn
To kiss the cross,
To kiss the cross.