“Why so?” I ask’d; “do you?”
“Why not,” she said,
All serious now, “do what shall yield life’s day
The most of glory at its evening hour?—
The sun sets brightest after days of storm.”
“What, always?” ask’d I; “are you sure of this?
I know true faith that mainly aims to rid
Our present life from fears of future ill.
To it what need of storms, if sunshine here
May best prepare one for the future calm?