 | Poems by William Wetmore Story |  |
272
GLAD IS THE SUNSHINE.
Glad is the sunshine, perfect is the day,A pearl of days; a flawless chrysolite
The sky above us lifts its dome of light,
And loitering clouds along its blue fields stray,
Unshepherded by winds that far away
Are sleeping in their caves. This pure delight,
This silent, peaceful gladness infinite,
Is troubled by no sorrow, no dismay.
Yes, for o'er all the shadow of a fear
Is brooding, that the restless spirit knows,
The doubting human spirit that forecasts,
Even in the brightest that surrounds us here,
The inevitable change,—for naught life knows
Is fixed and permanent, naught lives that lasts.
| Poems by William Wetmore Story | |