CALL it not vain, this life Teeming with care, and strife, Change, decay, pain, Sorrow spent, anguish kept, Hope dispelled, tears unwept: Ay, tho' the worst still slept, Call it not vain! Not while the seasons change, Not till winds cease their range, Till tides delay, Till beasts, and birds of earth, Sport in unshadowed mirth, Till sad Night brings to birth No chequered Day. Nature of peace knows naught; All is thro' tumult brought Safe to its prime: Reft of gloom, gale and snow Adieu sweet meadow show! Cowslips and violets blow Mid tearful clime. But for tempestuous seas Calm barques might sleep at ease, Havenward bound. Genius, when storms are rife, Blooms; and a nation's strife Shapes the commanding life All rally round. Art's triumph ponder too, Ye that crave ease, yet woo Fame for her best! Yon master-piece was born Of sweet fond faith outworn -- Nursed in a heart forlorn -- Fed on unrest. Beauty's supremest grace Lurks in a chastened face; Joy quenching ruth. Love, that can scorn decay, Knows more of cloud than ray -- Thro' hindrance fights its way, Buying its truth. Angels and Saints at rest! Ye who decipher best Life's puzzling tale; Lend us, faint wrestlers here, Vision full keen to peer, Courage to persevere, Strength to prevail! |