One mystery there is, and one alone, Baffles the human spirit with despair, Filches the very sunlight from the air, And wrenches every breath into a groan. Oh, it is when our loved, our very own, The good, -- so good! the fair, -- so dearly fair! Are doomed some awful agony to bear, And all their sweet, pure life becomes a moan. Send us, O God! amid our aching tears The memory of Thine accepted fate, -- Thy Son, Thy best beloved, torn with spears Of all our mortal woes disconsolate; So that our mystery of pain appears A mystery of love and not of hate. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GIFT TO SING by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON MERELY STATEMENT by AMY LOWELL NAMES by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE LOVE DISSEMBLED, FR. AS YOU LIKE IT by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE LONG HILL by SARA TEASDALE ANOTHER FRANCIS OF ASSISI by FREDERICK HENRY HERBERT ADLER |