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HOW LITTLE OF OUR LIFE.
For, like the leaves that drop in storm or calm,
Some to the mould, some whirled in wreck abroad,
Helpless and crushed we fall, while nature's psalm
Rises, unsaddened, to the ear of God.
Some to the mould, some whirled in wreck abroad,
Helpless and crushed we fall, while nature's psalm
Rises, unsaddened, to the ear of God.
This life! what is it but a single bloom
In the wide summer's wilderness of flowers?
The faintest star of all that light the gloom—
One shuttle-cast of God's untiring loom—
One flying moment in immortal hours?
And death, that we bewail as bitter doom,
What but the gift of unimagined dowers?
God were not God else! . . . Let us welcome, then,
The smiting angel, and our fears assuage!—
How sharp soe'er his summons, cry "Amen!"
And go to gain the nobler heritage.
In the wide summer's wilderness of flowers?
The faintest star of all that light the gloom—
One shuttle-cast of God's untiring loom—
One flying moment in immortal hours?
And death, that we bewail as bitter doom,
What but the gift of unimagined dowers?
God were not God else! . . . Let us welcome, then,
The smiting angel, and our fears assuage!—
How sharp soe'er his summons, cry "Amen!"
And go to gain the nobler heritage.
