Poems (Trask)/It Cometh
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IT COMETH.
It cometh! the day after night-time,
The sunshine after the rain,
The golden sky after a tempest,
Happiness after sharp pain:
Then lift up thy head, silly weeper,
And take up thy burden again.
The sunshine after the rain,
The golden sky after a tempest,
Happiness after sharp pain:
Then lift up thy head, silly weeper,
And take up thy burden again.
There's a hope-star gleaming and glowing,
Though hid in a vapory mist;
There's a beautiful pinnacled city
Away in the blue amethyst;
And the mountains burst out of shadow
When their brows by sunshine are kissed.
Though hid in a vapory mist;
There's a beautiful pinnacled city
Away in the blue amethyst;
And the mountains burst out of shadow
When their brows by sunshine are kissed.
Men level the oak of the forest,
But the roots remain in the earth,
They clamor for newer existence,
And spring to strong second birth;
And 'tis thus with a fortune-crushed mortal,
Whose soul has the true royal worth.
But the roots remain in the earth,
They clamor for newer existence,
And spring to strong second birth;
And 'tis thus with a fortune-crushed mortal,
Whose soul has the true royal worth.
The best steel has most refining,
Gold is assayed by hot fire;
And the heart is oft tried by the wrecking
Of passion, and hope, and desire;
But the wind which will conquer a sparrow
But makes an eagle soar higher.
Gold is assayed by hot fire;
And the heart is oft tried by the wrecking
Of passion, and hope, and desire;
But the wind which will conquer a sparrow
But makes an eagle soar higher.
Then cast off the fetters of fortune,
Nor bow to fate's autocrat nod!
And scorn to walk tamely the pathway
A craven-souled million have trod:
Be worthy thy glorious destiny,
Man, made in the image of God!
Nor bow to fate's autocrat nod!
And scorn to walk tamely the pathway
A craven-souled million have trod:
Be worthy thy glorious destiny,
Man, made in the image of God!