One woe is past. Come what come will, Thus much is ended and made fast: Two woes may overhang us still; One woe is past. As flowers when winter puffs its last Wake in the vale, trail up the hill. Nor wait for skies to overcast; So meek souls rally from the chill Of pain and fear and poisonous blast, To lift their heads: come good, come ill. One woe is past. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN LOVE WAS BORN by SARA TEASDALE THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON THE HARLOT'S HOUSE by OSCAR WILDE LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 10. THE FAIR by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM CUPS OF ILLUSION by HENRY BELLAMANN |