Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!
Gay words and jests may make us smile,
When Sorrow is asleep;
But other things must make us smile,
When Sorrow bids us weep!
Heaven is high;
Sing, poet with the sorrow !
I tell you, hopeless grief is passionless That only men incredulous of despair, half-taught in anguish, through the midnight air beat upward to god's throne in loud access of shrieking and reproach
Hush, call no echo up in further proof
Of desolation!
Do you hear the children weeping, O my brothers, Ere the sorrow comes with years
There is no God,' the foolish saith, But none, 'There is no sorrow.' And nature oft the cry of faith In bitter need will borrow Eyes which the preacher could not school, By wayside graves are raised And lips say, 'God be pitiful,' Who ne'er said, 'God be praised.'
And, shining with a gloom, the water grey
Swang in its moon-taught way.
Could it mean
To last, a love set pendulous between
Sorrow and sorrow?
Beloved, is it thou
Or I, who makes me sad?
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories