Sarah Orne Jewett

Assurance

It sometimes happens that two friends will meet,
And with a smile and touch of hands again
Go on their way along the noisy street.
Each is so sure of all the friendship sweet,
The loving silence gives no thought of pain.
And so I think those friends whom we call dead
Are with us. It may be some quiet hour,
Or time of busy work for hand and head,
Their love fills all the heart that missed them so.
They bring a sweet assurance of the life
Serene above the worry that we know,
And we are braver for the comfort brought.
Why should we grieve because they do not speak
Our words that lie so far below their thought?