 | The poetical works of Lucy Larcom |  |
WHAT COMETH?
'T is never the expected guest
Whose charmed approach rewards our waiting:
A nobler brings us royal rest;
A meaner comes, with footsteps grating.
What hinders that, or hastens this?
The encounter neither wholly chooses;
Thy friend for thee elected is;
And who the gift of God refuses?
Whose charmed approach rewards our waiting:
A nobler brings us royal rest;
A meaner comes, with footsteps grating.
What hinders that, or hastens this?
The encounter neither wholly chooses;
Thy friend for thee elected is;
And who the gift of God refuses?
It never is the dreaded pain:
Forbear thy mad foretaste of sorrow!
Thou fillest the Future's cup in vain;
Fate spills, to pour new wine to-morrow.
And Fate is God, and God is good;
His bitter draught works perfect healing.
Why look for poison in thy food
When Love's own hand is with thee dealing?
Forbear thy mad foretaste of sorrow!
Thou fillest the Future's cup in vain;
Fate spills, to pour new wine to-morrow.
And Fate is God, and God is good;
His bitter draught works perfect healing.
Why look for poison in thy food
When Love's own hand is with thee dealing?
Never arrives the dreamed-of joy;
But something larger, deeper, better,
That makes thy old ideal a toy,
And binds thee with a blissful fetter
To the all-beauteous soul of things.—
Hold steady, heart, by night-storms shaken!
The fluttering hope that in thee sings
To boundless freedom shall awaken!
But something larger, deeper, better,
That makes thy old ideal a toy,
And binds thee with a blissful fetter
To the all-beauteous soul of things.—
Hold steady, heart, by night-storms shaken!
The fluttering hope that in thee sings
To boundless freedom shall awaken!
| The poetical works of Lucy Larcom | |