O THE goal of the world is Joy — Joy divine that is born of love! Sorrows are wings that safe convoy The soul to its nobler realms above. There are days that darken and die in gloom Till the heart is heavy with grief and wrong, Yet still in the shadow some rose will bloom, And still through the wail there runs a song; For loss and anguish are only the beat Of the wild March rains that bring the sheaves, And a wind of heaven will woo our feet To the vales of peace in the harvest eves. Never a star too late or dim To hold its way with the central sun; Nor a voice too faint to swell the hymn By the Father's throne when the years are done — The ages of God that are moulding fair Each life for the glory that is to be; Nor the woes of earth nor the powers of air Can stay from the palms and the crystal sea! For oh, the goal of the world is Joy — Joy divine that is born of love: Sorrows are wings that safe convoy The soul to its nobler realms above! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE YARN OF THE 'NANCY BELL' by WILLIAM SCHWENCK GILBERT THE MOURNING-GARMENT: THE SHEPHERD'S WIFE'S SONG by ROBERT GREENE JUNE BRACKEN AND HEATHER by ALFRED TENNYSON THE SAILOR BOY by ALFRED TENNYSON ANCESTRESS by MARGUERITE JANVRIN ADAMS THE SPIRIT'S WARFARE by WILLIAM BLAKE THE SHOES THAT DANCED by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH |