Thatch of palm and a patch of clover, Breath of balm in a field of brown, The clouds blew up and the birds flew over, And I look'd upward; but who look'd down? Who was true in the test that tried us? Who was it mock'd? Who now may mourn The loss of a love that a cross denied us, With folded hands and a heart forlorn? God forgive us when the fair forget us. The worth of a smile, the weight of a tear, Why, who can measure? The fates beset us. We laugh a moment; we mourn a year. |