THE stream of life is going dry; Thank God, that more and more I see the golden sands, which I Could never see before. The banks are dark with graves of friends; Thank God, for faith sublime In the eternity that sends Its shadows into time. The flowers are gone that with their glow Of sunshine filled the grass; Thank God, they were but dim and low Reflections in a glass. The autumn winds are blowing chill; The summer warmth is done; Thank God, the little dew-drop still Is drawn into the sun. Strange stream, to be exhaled so fast In cloudy cares and tears; Thank God, that it should shine at last Along the immortal years. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO WHISTLER, AMERICAN; ON LOAN EXHIBIT OF PAINTINGS AT TATE GALLERY by EZRA POUND HIS PRAYER TO BEN JONSON by ROBERT HERRICK UPON THE LOSS OF HIS MISTRESSES by ROBERT HERRICK SONNET: DANTE (2) by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW LOUISA MAY ALCOTT by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON THE RUBAIYAT, 1879 EDITION: 14 by OMAR KHAYYAM |