Flower o' the thorn A book of wayside verse: By John Payne |
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RESURGENT SORROW. |
 | Flower o' the thorn |  |
RESURGENT SORROW.
“SORROW, begone! I will no more of thee;”I said, intent my heart on making whole
And all the haunted harbours of my soul
From the dim goblins of dead griefs set free,
On launching full upon Faith's sunny sea
Hope's bark, at last refloated from the shoal,
Where it had hung so long, of age-old dole,
With all sail spread toward the bright To-Be.
Alack! It hearkened not. Though heart of grace
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And sun, it thrust up through the clodded clay
And showed its wan and weeping-frustred face,
Intrusive, in the laughing lanes of May
And the green garths of jasmine-girdled June.
| Flower o' the thorn | |