As the insect from the rock Takes the color of its wing; As the boulder from the shock Of the ocean's rhythmic swing Makes itself a perfect form, Learns a calmer front to raise; As the shell, enamelled warm With the prism's mystic rays, Praises wind and wave that make All its chambers fair and strong; As the mighty poets take Grief and pain to build their song: Even so for every soul, Whatsoe'er its lot may be, -- Building, as the heavens roll, Something large and strong and free, -- Things that hurt and things that mar Shape the man for perfect praise; Shock and strain and ruin are Friendlier than the smiling days. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A WINTER TWILIGHT by ANGELINA WELD GRIMKE IN THE VALLEY OF THE ELWY by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS SPANISH WINGS: A LEAF FROM A LOG BOOK by H. BABCOCK ON A PORTRAIT by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD THE DAYS OF '84 by RANDOLPH BEDFORD THE POET'S WIFE by JESSICA BELL |