Since I in storms used most to be And seldom yielded flowers, How shall I get a wreath for thee From those rude, barren hours? The softer dressings of the Spring, Or Summer's later store I will not for thy temples bring, Which @3thorns@1, not @3roses@1 wore. But a twined wreath of @3grief@1 and @3praise@1, Praise soiled with tears, and tears again Shining with joy, like dewy days, This day I bring for all thy pain, Thy causeless pain! and sad as death, Which sadness breeds in the most vain, (O not in vain!) now beg thy breath; Thy quick'ning breath, which gladly bears Through saddest clouds to that glad place, Where cloudless choirs sing without tears, Sing thy just praise, and see thy face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON LIVING, FROM LIFE IS A DREAM by PEDRO CALDERON DE LA BARCA LORD, HEAR MY PRAYER; A PARAPHRASE OF THE 102ND PSALM by JOHN CLARE THE HILL WIFE: THE IMPULSE by ROBERT FROST I SIT AND LOOK OUT by WALT WHITMAN THE BOTTOM DRAWER by MARY A. BARR |