Poems By Richard Chenevix Trench: New ed |
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FROM THE ARABIC. |
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241
FROM THE ARABIC.
Despair not in the vale of woe,
Where many joys from suffering flow.
Where many joys from suffering flow.
Oft breathes simoom, and close behind
A breath of God doth softly blow.
A breath of God doth softly blow.
Clouds threaten, but a ray of light,
And not of lightning, falls below.
And not of lightning, falls below.
How many winters o'er thy head
Have passed; yet bald it does not show.
Have passed; yet bald it does not show.
Thy branches are not bare, and yet
What storms have shook them to and fro.
What storms have shook them to and fro.
To thee has Time brought many joys,
If many it has bid to go;
If many it has bid to go;
And seasoned has with bitterness
Thy cup, that flat it should not grow.
Thy cup, that flat it should not grow.
Trust in that veilëd hand, which leads
None by the path that he would go;
None by the path that he would go;
And always be for change prepared,
For the world's law is ebb and flow.
For the world's law is ebb and flow.
242
Stand fast in suffering, until He
Who called it, shall dismiss also;
Who called it, shall dismiss also;
And from that Lord all good expect,
Who many mercies strews below;
Who many mercies strews below;
Who in life's narrow garden-strip
Has bid delights unnumbered blow.
Has bid delights unnumbered blow.
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