LIFE hath its barren years, When blossoms fall untimely down, When ripened fruitage fails to crown The summer toil, when Nature's frown Looks only on our tears. Life hath its faithless days -- The golden promise of the morn, That seemed for light and gladness born, Mean only noontide wreck and scorn, Hushed harp instead of praise. Life hath its valleys too, Where we must walk with vain regret, With mourning clothed, with wild rain wet -- Towards sunlit hopes that soon must set, All quenched in pitying dew. Life hath its harvest moons, Its tasselled corn and purple-weighted vine, Its gathered sheaves of grain, the blessed sign Of plenteous ripening, bread, and pure, rich wine; Full hearts for harvest tunes. Life hath its hopes fulfilled, Its glad fruitions, its blessed answered prayers, Sweeter for waiting long whose holy air, Indrawn to silent souls, breathes forth its rare, Grand speech by joy distilled. Life hath its Tabor heights, Its lofty mounts of heavenly recognition, Whose unveiled glories flash to earth, munition Of love and truth and clear intuition. Hail! mount of all delights. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN JOHNNY COMES MARCHING HOME by PATRICK SARSFIELD GILMORE ULTIMA THULE: THE CHAMBER OVER THE GATE by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW SONNET: 36 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE: 3. IN PORT by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |