To Fullest Light

Every bitter tear we shed
Is a sorrow to the dead;
Every grave we brood above
Is a triumph over love;
Every hour of vain regret
Binds the spirit in a net --

Binds the soul that would be free
Of incarnate misery.
And in spheres beyond the spheres
Triumph over mortal years,
And the hour to sorrow given
Casts a shadow into heaven.

Every word of hope and faith
Is a triumph over death;
Every syllable shall more
Open wide the secret door;
Only Love that knows not fear
Learns at last to see and hear.

For the quietude of sleep
Faith and love will never weep;
Love that smiles and hears again
The viewless feet, the whisper plain;
Faith that knows, behind the night
Glows the dawn of fullest Light.

-- Meade Layne