  There is a star in the pure ether high, My other home it is, Whereto, when sorrow threatens me, I fly, And in my flight towards the vaulted sky The hated sorrows roll Down from my fleet-winged soul, As from the sea gull’s circling form the spray Drops to the storm-vext bay Its pinions erst did kiss. Well said the Seer, that overstudy brought A weariness of the flesh; And oft my brain, worn with its overthought, Watches the night steal past, while sleep comes not. Then doth my star arise Slowly before my eyes, Steady, serene and cold, yet heavenly bright, And, while my grief takes flight, Binds all my thoughts in leash. No longer fear and discontent combine To make my future drear, For I arise and from that star of mine Look down and see our small earth dimly shine; Their proper worth obtain, And I to smile at all past fears begin, For earth’s discordant din Is stilled, and God I hear. |
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