For gems of blackest jet may rest
Within a golden setting,
And he is wise who understands
The science of forgetting.
Oh, trees that bow before the gale
Until its peaceful ending,
Teach us your yielding, linked with strength,
Your graceful art of bending;
For every tree must meet the storm,
Each heart encounter sorrow:
Teach us like you to bow, that we
May stand erect to-morrow.
For there is strength in humble grace,
Its wise disciples shielding—
And he is strong who comprehends
The happy art of yielding.
Oh, streams which laugh all night, all day.
With voice of sweet seduction.
Teach us your art of laughing more
At every new obstruction;
For every life hath eddies deep,
And rapids fiercely dashing.
Sometimes through gloomy caverns forced.
Sometimes in sunlight flashing.
Yet there is wisdom in your way.
Tour laughing waves and wimples;
Teach us your gospels built of smiles.
The secret of your dimples.
Adelaide, S.A., November 1885.
