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John Bartlett (1820–1905). Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. 1919.

Helen (Fiske) Hunt Jakson 1830-1885 John Bartlett

    All lost things are in the angels’ keeping, Love;
No past is dead for us, but only sleeping, Love.
          At last.
    Like a blind spinner in the sun,
      I tread my days:
I know that all the threads will run
      Appointed ways.
I know each day will bring its task,
And being blind no more I ask.
    On the king’s gate the moss grew gray;
  The king came not. They called him dead
And made his eldest son one day
  Slave in his father’s stead.
    Father, I scarcely dare to pray,
  So clear I see, now it is done,
How I have wasted half my day,
  And left my work but just begun.
          A last Prayer.
    The voice of one who goes before, to make
The paths of June more beautiful, is thine
Sweet May!