As tangled driftwood barring up a stream Against our struggling oars when hope is high To reach some fair green island we descry Lying beyond us in the morning's gleam, And shimmering like a landscape in a dream -- Yet waiting patiently the logs float by, And all our course lies open to the eye -- So sorrows come and go. What though they seem A blight whose touch might turn a young head gray, Joy dawns again. Hope beckons us before. The tide that pressed against us breaks our bars; The visionary islands smile once more. Life, with its rest by night, its work by day, Forgets the old griefs, and heals their deepest scars. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ARCHITECT (2) by KAREN SWENSON SONNET: CUPID AND VENUS by MARK ALEXANDER BOYD THE RAIN by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES A SONG FOR ST. CECILIA'S DAY by JOHN DRYDEN A BLACKBIRD SUDDENLY by JOSEPH AUSLANDER TWELVE SONNETS: 3. THE VALLEY ROSES by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |