Behold when skies are torn by trebled thunder,
And daytime, foul with fury, seemeth night,
Across the path of clashing hail there cometh
The long-enduring sun's benignant light,
And archeth over earth a beauteous halo,
Which lusting hands all restlessly beseech—
A silent, sevenfold wonder, out of chaos,
The radiant rainbow bends, God's law to teach.
Yea, clouds drop sweet distilment in their anger,
And craving earth doth find her latter rain;
Though needles of the frost seem, plied with blighting,
They clothe with autumn splendor wood and plain;
And nothing fails nor fades apart from being,
Life's law of recompense hath countless signs,—
The shriek of desert wind at length becometh
The soft, balm-breathing discourse of the pines.
The rooted herb doth know the scent of water,
Yet leaveth not her destined soil to find;
But rootless blades of thought, tho' bravely beaded,
Draw not from unseen cisterns deep in Mind;
Who drinketh of the same hath gain eternal,
Doth joy in patient labor's excellence;
Who counteth more the waging than the winning
Doth drink of Life's full-flowing recompense.
