 | The Triumph of Love |  |
XIX
Frown on me when thou wilt: I little careWhat angry clouds may overcast the sky:
Strong in the pride and courage of despair,
I'll face love's lightnings with unflinching eye.
Frown on me when thou wilt: my heart knows well
That, howsoe'er the storm-clouds throng and roll,
Behind them all, purer than words can tell,
Burns the unsullied azure of thy soul.
O sunlit sky, thy clouds will part and pass,
And from their fringes mystically bright,
Turning to gems the tear-drops on the grass,
Will burst a flood of world-transfiguring light;
For lovelier far the frowns that mar thy grace,
Than all the sunshine of another's face.
| The Triumph of Love | |