MY God, it is not fretfulness That makes me say, "How long?" It is not heaviness of heart That hinders me in song; 'T is not despair of truth and right, Nor coward dread of wrong. But how can I, with such a hope Of glory and of home, With such a joy before my eyes, Not wish the time were come,— Of years the jubilee, of days The Sabbath and the sum? These years, what ages they have been! This life, how long it seems! And how can I, in evil days, Mid unknown hills and streams, But sigh for those of home and heart, And visit them in dreams? Yet peace, my heart, and hush, my tongue; Be calm, my troubled breast; Each restless hour is hastening on The everlasting rest: Thou knowest that the time thy God Appoints for thee is best. Let faith, not fear, nor fretfulness, Awake the cry, "How long?" Let no faint-heartedness of soul Damp thy aspiring song: Right comes, truth dawns, the night departs Of error and of wrong. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BOTANICAL GARDENS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS BATTLE SONG by EBENEZER ELLIOTT ROBIN REDBREAST by MOTHER GOOSE THE RIVER DUDDON: SONNET 34. AFTER-THOUGHT by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE LAMENTATION OF THE OLD PENSIONER (1) by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE LETTER by MUHAMMAD AL-MU'TAMID II |