She touched my hand as the singer sang, A pressure, and that was all. She knew the music would bring a pang To my heart and its griefs recall. And no one saw her touch my hand, Save the singer, of all the throng, Who sang like one of God's angel band; For he put our love in his song. He told me love lives by hope alone, By faith that a heart is true; That love by night must weep and moan, And restlessly suffer the long day through. He said her touch meant her pure soul Was whispering close to mine: "Be strong! If here this is the whole, In heaven I shall be thine." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING by HAYDEN CARRUTH PROSIT NEUJAHR by GEORGE SANTAYANA THREE BLIND MICE by MOTHER GOOSE |