 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
SOMETIMES.
Sometimes for days
Along the fields that I of time have leased,
I go, nor find a single leaf increased;
And hopeless, graze
With forehead stooping downward like a beast.
Along the fields that I of time have leased,
I go, nor find a single leaf increased;
And hopeless, graze
With forehead stooping downward like a beast.
O heavy hours!
My life seems all a failure, and I sigh,
What is there left for me to do, but die?
So small my powers
That I can only stretch them to a cry!
My life seems all a failure, and I sigh,
What is there left for me to do, but die?
So small my powers
That I can only stretch them to a cry!
But while I stretch
What strength I have, though only to a cry,
I gain an utterance that men know me by:
Create, and fetch
A something out of chaos,—that is I.
What strength I have, though only to a cry,
I gain an utterance that men know me by:
Create, and fetch
A something out of chaos,—that is I.
Good comes to pass
We know not when nor how, for, looking to
What seemed a barren waste, there starts to view
Some bunch of grass,
Or snarl of violets, shining with the dew.
We know not when nor how, for, looking to
What seemed a barren waste, there starts to view
Some bunch of grass,
Or snarl of violets, shining with the dew.
I do believe
The very impotence to pray, is prayer;
The hope that all will end, is in despair,
And while we grieve,
Comfort abideth with us, unaware.
The very impotence to pray, is prayer;
The hope that all will end, is in despair,
And while we grieve,
Comfort abideth with us, unaware.
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |