LIGHT is our sorrow for it ends tomorrow, Light is our death which cannot hold us fast; So brief a sorrow can be scarcely sorrow, Or death be death so quickly past. One night, no more, of pain that turns to pleasure, One night, no more, of weeping weeping sore; And then the heaped-up measure beyond measure, In quietness for evermore. Our face is set like flint against our trouble, Yet many things there are which comfort us; This bubble is a rainbow-coloured bubble, This bubble-life tumultuous. Our sails are set to cross the tossing river, Our face is set to reach Jerusalem; We toil awhile, but then we rest for ever, Sing with all Saints and rest with them. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AFTER THE RAIN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE OVIDIAN ELEGIAC METRE, DESCRIBED AND EXEMPLIFIED by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE A LITANY OF ATLANTA by WILLIAM EDWARD BURGHARDT DU BOIS MITHRIDATES by RALPH WALDO EMERSON |