Nothing resting in its own completeness Can have worth or beauty:but alone Because it leads and tends to farther sweetness,Fuller,higher,deeper than its own.
Spring's real glory dwells not in the meaning,Gracious though it be,of her blue hours;But is hidden in her tender leaning To the Summer's richer wealth of flowers.
Dawn is fair,because the mists fade slowly Into Day,which floods the world with light;Twilight's mystery is so sweet and holy Just because it ends in starry Night.
Childhood's smiles unconscious graces borrow From Strife,that in a far-off future lies;And angel glances (veiled now by Life's sorrow)Draw our hearts to some beloved eyes.
Life is only bright when it proceedeth Towards a truer,deeper Life above;Human Love is sweetest when it leadeth To a more divine and perfect Love.
Learn the mystery of Progression duly:
Do not call each glorious change,Decay;
But know we only hold our treasures truly,When it seems as if they passed away.
Nor dare to blame God's gifts for incompleteness;In that want their beauty lies:they roll Towards some infinite depth of love and sweetness,Bearing onward man's reluctant soul.
