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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
57
LXV
The griefs of Nature, like her joys,
Are placid and yet passionate;
These, in her heart which knows no hate,
She for the beautiful employs. . . .
Behold how thoughts of happiness
Rainbow the tears on sorrow's face!
Upon the brow of joy no less
Aureates the light of seriousness!
Each to the other lending grace.
Are placid and yet passionate;
These, in her heart which knows no hate,
She for the beautiful employs. . . .
Behold how thoughts of happiness
Rainbow the tears on sorrow's face!
Upon the brow of joy no less
Aureates the light of seriousness!
Each to the other lending grace.
Oh, tenderness of grief that knows
Some happiness still lies before!
That for the rose that blooms no more
Will bloom a no less perfect rose!
Oh, pensiveness of joy that takes
Sweet dignity from grief that died!
Remembering that though morning shakes
Her bright locks from blue eyes and wakes,
Night sleeps on the same mountain side.
Some happiness still lies before!
That for the rose that blooms no more
Will bloom a no less perfect rose!
Oh, pensiveness of joy that takes
Sweet dignity from grief that died!
Remembering that though morning shakes
Her bright locks from blue eyes and wakes,
Night sleeps on the same mountain side.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |