KIND, gentle friend, brought strangely low By cruel blow on cruel blow; You that so helpless here have lain, Oft in the iron clutch of pain, -- Your tresses drifting like the Night Over your pillow's world of white, -- Since April passed with gusty roar, Till now great June is at the door: Can it be true that all these weeks You have but watched the endless freaks Of clouds that without purpose roam, Or seen the straggling rooks go home, Or caught, with half-rebellious sigh, (From thrush or blackbird trilling nigh) Just for a moment, that wild thing, The very soul of very Spring? What can I counsel? Naught indeed: For trite and tedious is the rede That says: "Be patient and resigned, And brave in heart and braced in mind." All this, and more, you are! And though The journey back to health be slow, You have about you on the way Kindred who tend you night and day, Strewing the path with blossoms sweet To make it softer for your feet. And you shall yet arise and see Earth in her summer majesty; Shall see her raised to height of pride, Unboding yet of Autumntide; Shall see her gorgeous in the brief Pomp of the fated reddening leaf. And lastly, all her revels o'er And she a thing of joy no more, -- When she is pinched and gaunt and chill, The torpid slave of Winter's will, -- In your own veins such life shall play As dances at her heart to-day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NAPEOLON'S FAREWELL; FROM THE FRENCH by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ADVICE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE LIVING TEMPLE by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES THE WEATHER-COCK POINTS SOUTH by AMY LOWELL LOVE IN A COTTAGE by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS LINES ON THE DEATH OF PHILIP MEADOWS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |