How strange, in some brief interval of rest, Backward to look on her far-stretching past. To see how much is conquered and repressed, How much is gained in victory at last! The shadow is not lifted, -- but her faith, Strong from life's miracles, now turns toward death. Though much be dark where once rare splendor shone, Yet the new light has touched high peaks unguessed In her gold, mist-bathed dawn, and one by one New outlooks loom from many a mountain crest. She breathes a loftier, purer atmosphere, And life's entangled paths grow straight and clear Nor will Death prove an all-unwelcome guest; The struggle has been toilsome to this end. Sleep will be sweet, and after labor rest, And all will be atoned with him to friend. Much must be reconciled, much justified, And yet she feels she will be satisfied. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PHILOMELA by JOHN CROWE RANSOM A SPIRITUAL AND WELL-ORDERED MIND by HENRY ALFORD OMNES EODEM COGIMUR by AMMIANUS IN AND OUT OF CHURCH by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON THE VALLEY OF REMORSE by LOUISA SARAH BEVINGTON ENOUGH by OTTO JULIUS BIERBAUM THE END by BYRON HAVERLY BLACKFORD |