“I sorrowed that the golden day was dead,
Its light no more the country-side adorning;
But whilst I grieved, behold the east grew red
With Morning.
“I sighed that merry Spring was forced to go,
And doff the wreaths that did so well become her;
But whilst I murmured at her absence – lo
‘Twas summer.
I mourned because the daffodils were killed
By burning skies that scorched my early posies;
But while for these I pined, my hands were filled
“Half broken-hearted I bewailed the end
Of friendship, than which none had once seemed nearer;
But whilst I wept I found a closer friend
And dearer.
“Thus I learned old pleasures are estranged,
Only that something better may be given –
Until, at last, we find this earth exchanged
For Heaven.”
Its light no more the country-side adorning;
But whilst I grieved, behold the east grew red
With Morning.
“I sighed that merry Spring was forced to go,
And doff the wreaths that did so well become her;
But whilst I murmured at her absence – lo
‘Twas summer.
I mourned because the daffodils were killed
By burning skies that scorched my early posies;
But while for these I pined, my hands were filled
With roses.
“Half broken-hearted I bewailed the end
Of friendship, than which none had once seemed nearer;
But whilst I wept I found a closer friend
And dearer.
“Thus I learned old pleasures are estranged,
Only that something better may be given –
Until, at last, we find this earth exchanged
For Heaven.”
No comments:
Post a Comment