And when upon the wings of nite
Appears naught but gloom,
Will not the veil be lifted soon
And flowers bloom?
Be still dear heart – be calm and still
For heavy tho the cross may seem
It is His will.
‘Tis but the Way of Life we trod –
A mixture of both joy and woe
That none can quite forego.
The dowager in marble halls
So haughty and so proud,
Beneath her satin sheath may bear
A load of care.
And she in this is not alone
For he has cares whom fate elects
To sit upon a throne. (Ed. VII)
Do not the planets wend their way
And all things change from day to day?
‘Tis Nature’s law.
Upon the lap of fading twilight
Will not this day be laid
Next morn will see another born, unblemished,
And the sun shed forth his golden rays
To christen it.
All things must be,
From raging storms that sweep the land
To placid isles on moonlight sea.
So too with grief – –
And time the healer over all
Will bring relief
a pioneer woman