Where the Shoe Pinches

The pain of parting—once and once again
  To kiss her pale lips as the hour draws nigh, 
And the black hull steams out into the rain
  And fades, and fades and fades against the sky.
The pain of doubting which is very hell,
  The pain of her pain, when the hands are tied,
And powerless to comfort, none can tell
  The pain of this pain save whose Love is tried­
  The pain of all pain—when we have no right
  To feel the sorrow—It is surely woe
  To suffer openly in all men's sight,
  But when we suffer and no soul can know,
  And we must e'en go forward with the care 
  Of daily life, Ah! Woe's own woe is there!