 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
MYSTERIES.
Clouds, with a little light between;
Pain, passion, fear, and doubt,—
What voice shall tell me what they mean?
I cannot find them out!
Pain, passion, fear, and doubt,—
What voice shall tell me what they mean?
I cannot find them out!
Hopeless my task is, to begin,
Who fail with all my power,
To read the crimson lettering in
The modest meadow flower.
Who fail with all my power,
To read the crimson lettering in
The modest meadow flower.
Death, with shut eyes and icy cheek,
Bearing that bitter cup;
Oh, who is wise enough to speak,
And break its silence up!
Bearing that bitter cup;
Oh, who is wise enough to speak,
And break its silence up!
Or read the evil writing on
The wall of good, for, oh,
The more my reason shines upon
Its lines, the less I know:
The wall of good, for, oh,
The more my reason shines upon
Its lines, the less I know:
249
Or show how dust became a rose,
And what it is above
All mysteries that doth compose
Discordance into love.
And what it is above
All mysteries that doth compose
Discordance into love.
I only know that wisdom planned,
And that it is my part
To trust, who cannot understand
The beating of my heart.
And that it is my part
To trust, who cannot understand
The beating of my heart.
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |