IT is in vain the weary spirit strives With that which doth consume it; -- there is born A strength from suffering which can laugh to scorn The stroke of sorrow, even though it rives Our very heart-strings; -- but the grief the lives For ever in the heart, and day by day Wastes the soul's high-wrought energies away, And wears the lofty spirit down, and gives Its own dark hue to life, oh! who can bear? Yet, as the black and threatening tempests bring New fragrance to earth's flowers, and tints more fair, So beneath sorrow's nurture virtues spring. Youth, health, and hope, may fade, but there is left A soul that trusts in Heaven, though thus of all bereft. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEDICATION OF THE FIRST SONNETS TO A FRIEND ... by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE HERETIC: 2. IRONY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER AGAINST HOPE by ABRAHAM COWLEY THE GIRL OF ALL PERIODS; AN IDYLL by COVENTRY KERSEY DIGHTON PATMORE REMINISCENCE by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH SATIRE: 4 by AULUS PERSIUS FLACCUS SATURDAY IN Y' HOLY WEEK by JOSEPH BEAUMONT |