The mighty tides of fate still ebb and flow. The mighty moons of fortune wax and wane. Death and disaster out of pleasure grow And God's high ecstasy returns again. Some green, delightful oases are found In the enormous desert of despair, Some lovely acres of enchanted ground, Some sunny regions of celestial air. But that which grows where nothing flourisheth, And that which blooms where ruin else would be, And that which heals the sting of even death Is love -- and I love thee and thou lov'st me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRUEL MISTRESS by THOMAS CAREW AN INSINCERE WISH ADDRESSED TO A BEGGAR by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE THE FLOWER OF FINAE by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS THE WARNING by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PROMISES LIKE A PIE-CRUST by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI WINDY NIGHTS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON IN MEMORY OF WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE |