 | Areytos or songs and ballads of the South |  |
OH! WHAT IF THE PROSPECT BE CLOUDED?
Oh! what if the prospect be clouded,
And what if the sunlight be fled?
The bright Sun himself may be shrouded,
And the bright crown be torn from his head
But he yields never long to the rigor
Of the tempest that beats on his form;
And he comes forth, anon, full of vigor,
More glorious because of the storm.
And what if the sunlight be fled?
The bright Sun himself may be shrouded,
And the bright crown be torn from his head
But he yields never long to the rigor
Of the tempest that beats on his form;
And he comes forth, anon, full of vigor,
More glorious because of the storm.
From the Sun let the Soul take its moral,
Nor shrink 'neath the battle of life;
Near the cypress grows ever the laurel,
And we pluck, as we please, from the strife.
Though the foe presses fierce with his legions,
And ye stoop for the hour to his will,
Keep your calm in the turbulent regions,
And the triumph inures to you still!
Nor shrink 'neath the battle of life;
Near the cypress grows ever the laurel,
And we pluck, as we please, from the strife.
Though the foe presses fierce with his legions,
And ye stoop for the hour to his will,
Keep your calm in the turbulent regions,
And the triumph inures to you still!
| Areytos or songs and ballads of the South | |