 | Jones Very : The Complete Poems |  |
On The Late Mild Winter
With spring-like mildness passeth, day by day,The winter months; the wild flowers bloom,
And careless of the cold their charms display;
Why on our faces rests a cloud of gloom?
Do we not see in this mild season, sent
For man's relief, a providential care?
Shall we not learn a lesson of content,
And with less favored ones our blessings share?
All things are providential. Yet more plain
We see God's hand, when tempered is the wind
To the shorn lamb, and want and pain
Are ministered unto by angels kind;
Than when in Nature's course there is no change,
And naught occurs, which we, like this, call “strange!”
Poem No. 844; 15 February 1858
| Jones Very : The Complete Poems | |