O hard necessity! O bitter cup!
But would you have me like a coward shun
The path of duty, though beset with thorns--
Thorns that must pierce your tender feet and mine?"
Piercing the question as the sharpest sword;
Their love, their joys, tempted to say him nay.
But soon she conquered all and calmly said:
"My love, my life, where duty plainly calls
I bid you go, though my poor heart must bleed,
And though my eyes weep bitter scalding tears."

Their hearts too full for words, too full for tears,
Gently he pressed her hand and they passed home;
And in the presence of this dark unknown
A deep and all-pervading tenderness
Guides every act and tempers every tone--
As in the chamber of the sick and loved
The step is light, the voice is soft and low.
But soon their days with varied duties filled,
Their nights with sweet repose, glide smoothly on,
Until this shadow seems to lift and fade--
As when the sun bursts through the passing storm,
Gilding the glittering raindrops as they fall,
And paints the bow of hope on passing clouds.
Yet still the old sad thoughts sometimes return,
The burden of a duty unperformed,
The earnest yearning for a clearer light.
The thought that hour by hour and day by day
The helpless multitudes grope blindly on,
Clouded his joys and often banished sleep.