Which, like the plants that throw
Their fragrance from the wounded part,
Breathes sweetness out of woe.
3 When joy no longer soothes or cheers,
And e’en the hope that threw
A moment’s sparkle o’er our tears
Is dimmed and vanished too;
4 O, who would bear life’s stormy doom,
Did not thy wing of love
Come brightly wafting through the gloom,