 | David Westren |  |
Man's portion is the aspect of his God.
On lives that amble down a gentle slope
Faith rides at ease, and casts a passing glance
Of pity, scorn, or hatred, on the wretch
That struggles through the mire of misery,
Doubting if Love hath willed it. Some there be,
Who, smitten by their Maker's heavy hand,
Yet challenge not the omnipotence of Love—
Bright souls, the sunshine of whose genial health
No tears can quench, or minds whose loyalty
Proves stronger than all reason, or meek spirits
Not smarting 'neath the lash of unjust wrath;
While some—unwilling Stoics—grimly smile,
And ply, with aching heart but steady hand,
Their needful toil, and ask not Whence or Why.
On lives that amble down a gentle slope
Faith rides at ease, and casts a passing glance
Of pity, scorn, or hatred, on the wretch
That struggles through the mire of misery,
Doubting if Love hath willed it. Some there be,
Who, smitten by their Maker's heavy hand,
Yet challenge not the omnipotence of Love—
Bright souls, the sunshine of whose genial health
No tears can quench, or minds whose loyalty
Proves stronger than all reason, or meek spirits
Not smarting 'neath the lash of unjust wrath;
2
And ply, with aching heart but steady hand,
Their needful toil, and ask not Whence or Why.
| David Westren | |