Verses (Baughan)/Comfort

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
4171606Verses — ComfortBlanche Edith Baughan

COMFORT

We are as clouds that flit across the moon
And vanish soon.
From Night we pass a moment into Light,
Then, into Night.

—What matter? Clouds and moon, all heaven and earth,
Being little worth,
Pass, But what’s valuable remaineth sure;
God doth endure!