Trust him when the way is rough,
Cry not yet, It is enough!
But obey with true endeavour,
Else the salt hath lost his savour.
A SONG IN THE NIGHT.
I would I were an angel strong,
An angel of the sun, hasting along!
I would I were just come awake,
A child outbursting from night's dusky brake!
Or lark whose inward, upward fate
Mocks every wall that masks the heavenly gate!
Or hopeful cock whose clarion clear
Shrills ten times ere a film of dawn appear!
Or but a glowworm: even then
My light would come straight from the Light of Men!
I am a dead seed, dark and slow:
Father of larks and children, make me grow.