CONSOLATION.
69
Small solace for the deer that hath the arrow in its side,—
And only seeks the woods to die,—that o'er his dappled hide
Spread purple blooms of bedded heath, and ferny branchings tall—
A deadly hurt must have strong cure, or it hath none at all;
And only seeks the woods to die,—that o'er his dappled hide
Spread purple blooms of bedded heath, and ferny branchings tall—
A deadly hurt must have strong cure, or it hath none at all;
And the old warfare from within that had gone on so long,
The wasting of the inner strife, the sting of outward wrong,
Went with me o'er the breezy hill, went with me up the glade—
I found not God among the trees, and yet I was afraid!
The wasting of the inner strife, the sting of outward wrong,
Went with me o'er the breezy hill, went with me up the glade—
I found not God among the trees, and yet I was afraid!
I mused, and fire that smouldered long within my breast brake free,
I said, "O God, Thy works are good, and yet they are not Thee;
Still greater to the sense is that which breathes through every part,
Still sweeter to the heart than all is He who made the heart!
I said, "O God, Thy works are good, and yet they are not Thee;
Still greater to the sense is that which breathes through every part,
Still sweeter to the heart than all is He who made the heart!
I will seek Thee, not Thine, O Lord! for (now I mind me) still
Thou sendest us for soothing not to fountain, nor to hill;
Thou sendest us for soothing not to fountain, nor to hill;
