 | My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays |  |
144
SONNET TO ADVERSITY.
“For all I thank thee,—most for the severe.”—
Neglected Nymph, that with unheeded sigh,
Turn'st thy white cheek to every striking gale—
While the base crew with wounding taunts assail
And frowning wealth averts his wintry eye:
Yet the rich virtues follow in thy train,
Thine is compassion's tear, submission's calm;
Consoling Hope, Religion's heavenly balm,
And mild philosophy's instructive strain:
And thine the plaintive poet's touching song,
That moves to melody the chords of care,
Pouring forgiveness o'er the cureless wrong,
To heal the wounded spirit of despair.
Turn'st thy white cheek to every striking gale—
While the base crew with wounding taunts assail
And frowning wealth averts his wintry eye:
Yet the rich virtues follow in thy train,
Thine is compassion's tear, submission's calm;
Consoling Hope, Religion's heavenly balm,
And mild philosophy's instructive strain:
And thine the plaintive poet's touching song,
That moves to melody the chords of care,
145
To heal the wounded spirit of despair.
Ah! may I ne'er forget thy voice divine,
But bless the hour that made its precepts mine.
But bless the hour that made its precepts mine.
| My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays | |