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153

[II
Would I were hopeful as the tender leaves]

Would I were hopeful as the tender leaves,
Would I were faithful as the myriad grass,
Kindling conviction in the ways I pass;
Would I believed as every flower believes!
The pale wheat springs and flowers, the golden sheaves
Serve in their turn—the Earth's religion brings
Proof of the power and miracle of things,
That none are infidel and no thing grieves.
No thing in nature grieves and all things die;
Yea! from their burial Life is born anew:
O faithful grass of graves!—perchance when I
Change to the earth's desire, my soul shall take
Thy lesson of faith and joy and still renew
My journey onward for the journey's sake!