IT is in vain the weary spirit strives With that which doth consume it; -- there is born A strength from suffering which can laugh to scorn The stroke of sorrow, even though it rives Our very heart-strings; -- but the grief the lives For ever in the heart, and day by day Wastes the soul's high-wrought energies away, And wears the lofty spirit down, and gives Its own dark hue to life, oh! who can bear? Yet, as the black and threatening tempests bring New fragrance to earth's flowers, and tints more fair, So beneath sorrow's nurture virtues spring. Youth, health, and hope, may fade, but there is left A soul that trusts in Heaven, though thus of all bereft. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 55. ST. VALENTINE'S DAY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT THE VANISHING BOAT by EDMUND WILLIAM GOSSE FAUSTINE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE FOUR SONNETS: 4 by FRANK DAVIS ASHBURN |