HOW oft by trivial griefs our spirits tossed
Drift vague and restless round this changeful world!
Yet when great sorrows on our lives are hurled,
And fate on us has wreaked his uttermost,
O’er wounded breasts our steadfast arms are crossed;
We front the blast, silent, with unbowed head
And stoic mien; for fear with hope is dead;
And calm the voice which whispers: “All is lost!”
Thence to the end, our being, stripped and bare
Of love, and peace, and gracious joys of of earth,
Like some storm-shattered tree, its withered might
May lift defiant, dauntless in its dearth,
Seeming Death’s bolt, that final stroke, to dare,
A dreary watcher on a blasted height!
(Paul Hamilton Hayne)
More Poetry from Paul Hamilton Hayne:
Paul Hamilton Hayne Poems based on Topics: Love, War & Peace, World, Nature, Hope- Antonio Melidori (Paul Hamilton Hayne Poems)
- Daphles. An Argive Story (Paul Hamilton Hayne Poems)
- The Mountain Of The Lovers (Paul Hamilton Hayne Poems)
- Songs Of The Imprisoned Naiad (Paul Hamilton Hayne Poems)
- Widderin's Race. Australian. (Paul Hamilton Hayne Poems)
- Ode II (Paul Hamilton Hayne Poems)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Love Poems, World Poems, Nature Poems, War & Peace Poems, Hope PoemsBased on Keywords: unbowed, wreaked, storm-shattered