For one whose life lay bound, long years, In cold obstruction thrilled with fears, Whose daily bread was salt with tears: Whom the all-pleasant light of day Whose soul seemed, by an awful lot, Where hope came not, where God was not: Yet now, through grace, essays to trust God is, is merciful as just, And souls outlive all pangs of dust. For friends, ah, many friends! who find Who, in the countless paths of pain, Weeping, sow seeds of precious grain, One day to bring back sheaves again! For all, who, battling through this life In anguish steeped, with evil rife, Faint with the unremitting strife: Dear, for the sorrows they endure, + POEMS OF SORROW AND COMFORT. EVIL. EVIL, every living hour, Holds us in its wilful hand, Heavy lids that cannot close, Tyranny's strong breath is tainting Or upgather in despair: Trust the judgment of their woes; While the cup of anguish fills, Arm of Justice! interpose. Pleasures night and day are hovering Ere envenomed passion grows Now no more in tuneful motion |