 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
177
TRUE PATIENCE.
The martyred spirit that can shrink and feel,Gently enduring long; the generous mind
After ill-usage waiting to be kind;
The man who for his enemy can kneel
And beg from Heav'n forgiveness for his sin:
The outraged heart, all tenderness within,
Though like a hero plated up in steel;
These be the Patient ones whom God approves:
He wills no feeling quench'd, no hope destroy'd;
He claims affection's life, the warmth of zeal,
All noblest active impulses and loves
Energized, and encouraged, and enjoy'd,—
Then counsels Patience; with her oily balm
Lulling life's roughest surface to a calm.
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