180
thirty-five.
To wait—to suffer—or to do;
Each key unlocks its own deep bliss;
For every grief a comfort new;—
A mine for gems the heart may miss.
Each key unlocks its own deep bliss;
For every grief a comfort new;—
A mine for gems the heart may miss.
Thus on she looks, with thoughts that sing
Of happy months that follow June:
Life were not a completed thing,
Without its summer afternoon;
Of happy months that follow June:
Life were not a completed thing,
Without its summer afternoon;
Without its summery autumn hours;—
That softened, spiritual time,
When o'er bright woods and frost-born flowers
The seasons ring their perfect chime.
That softened, spiritual time,
When o'er bright woods and frost-born flowers
The seasons ring their perfect chime.
The time to bless and to be blest;
For gathering and bestowing fruit;
When grapes are waiting to be pressed,
And storms have fixed the tree's firm root.
For gathering and bestowing fruit;
When grapes are waiting to be pressed,
And storms have fixed the tree's firm root.
Heaven's inmost sunshine earth has warmed;
Heaven's peace floods each dark mystery;
And all the present glows, transformed,
In the fair light of what shall be.
Heaven's peace floods each dark mystery;
And all the present glows, transformed,
In the fair light of what shall be.
