  I WOULD not have thee otherwise, O cloudy skies; I would not change the night to day Nor drive away The shadows that are hanging o’er My hearth and door. There is some good that lurketh where The lightnings flare; There is a peace that bideth in The fiercest din; A vernal light doth look upon Fields winter-won. If God were not the Overheart, Nor had a part In all the wounds that hurt us so! But He doth know And doth in patience see and bless In gentleness. How sturdy and how great, O earth! Within thy girth Thou wieldst what passion and what pain O’er man’s domain; And yet within thy shadows blest Is perfect rest. Turn not unto the light too long Friend, with thy song! Thou hast not need to look afar For hill or star; Here in the shadow rest is found Deep and profound. |
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