All are not taken; there are left behind 
Living Belovèds, tender looks to bring 
And make the daylight still a happy thing, 
And tender voices, to make soft the wind: 
But if it were not so?if I could find 
No love in all this world for comforting, 
Nor any path but hollowly did ring 
Where 'dust to dust' the love from life disjoin'd; 
And if, before those sepulchres unmoving 
I stood alone (as some forsaken lamb 
Goes bleating up the moors in weary dearth) 
Crying 'Where are ye, O my loved and loving?'? 
I know a voice would sound, 'Daughter, I AM. 
Can I suffice for Heaven and not for earth?'