And tender friends go sighing round,

And yet my days go on, go on.

Cool deadly touch to these tired feet.

He sits upon the great white throne

(Too early worn and grimed) with sweet

Forgetting how the days go on.』

From gracious Nature have I won

With hourly love, is dimmed away—

Have leave to chirp there day and night

I thank Thee while my days go on.

From off the earth where it has grown,

Such liberal bounty? may I run

Whose days eternally go on!

Beneath the crown of sovran thorns,

I knock and cry, —Undone, undone!

With emptied arms and treasure lost,

I praise Thee while my days go on.

And dare not ask an equal boon.

Whose desolated days go on.

The sharp regalia are for Thee

Some cubit-space, and say 『Behold,

The face, which, duly as the sun,

And deaf in Natures general tune,

Being and suffering (which are one),

Gods Voice, not Natures! Night and noon

Ancient of Days, whose days go on.

The sward would quicken, overshone

We will not struggle nor impugn.

For mine to lean and rest upon,

Only to lift the turf unmown

My days go on, my days go on.

And fallen too low for special fear,

My days go on, my days go on.

Blaspheme against Him with despair,

However darkly days go on.

By days that painfully go on?

I praise Thee while my days go on;

I ask less kindness to be done, —

And having in thy life-ｈｔtｐs://reａｄ.９9csｗ•cｏmdepth thrown

No mortal grief deserves that crown.

Only to loose these pilgrim shoon,

What babble we of days and days?

To give away to better creatures, —

The strongest on the longest day

And listens for the creatures praise.

While the tears drop, my days go on.

The world goes whispering to its own,

Where others drive their loaded wains?

He reigns the Jealous God. Who mourns

This Nature, though the snows be down,

Among his creatures anywhere

And yet my days go on, go on.

As a child drops his pebble small

Not to be ended! Ended bliss,

And yet my days go on, go on.

Till days go out which now go on.

Of bees is sweetest, and more deep

Thinksｒｅａｄ•9９cｓw.com kindly of the bird of June:

More sweet than Natures when the drone

By skies as blue; and crickets might

O supreme Love, chief misery,

Rose up for me with life begun,

For us, —whatevers undergone,

Smiling—so I. THY DAYS GO ON.

The little red hip on the tree

—A Voice reproves me thereupon,

Whatevers lost, it first was won;

Down some deep well, and hears it fall

By anguish which made pale the sun,

No bird am I, to sing in June,

I trust Thee while my days go on.

The shuddering pines, and thunder on.

The heart which, like a staff, was one

Whose days so winterly go on?

Systems burn out and have his throne;

Heart-bare, heart-hungry, very poor,

Thou knowest, willest what is done,

I hear Him charge his saints thttps://read.99csw.comhat none

Good nests and berries red are Natures

And, having life in love forgone

Or rules with Him, while days go on?

And here, with hope no longer here,

And there be safe, who now am tried

The Day-spring He, whose days go on.

The tongue which, like a stream, could run

Fair mists of seraphs melt and fall

I sit and knock at Natures door,

Through dark and dearth, through fire and frost,

I love Thee while my days go on:

Make each day good, is hushed away,

The past rolls forward on the sun

And makes all night. O dreams begun,

Is there no help, no comfort, —none?

『This anguish pierces to the bone;』

Grief may be joy misunderstood;

Only the Good discerns the good.

My vacant days go on, go on.

While my new rest went on, went on.

Creep in, poor Heart, beneath that fold,

He reigread.99ｃｓw.ｃomns below, He reigns alone,

Perhaps the cup was broken here,

Than when the rivers overleap

So, lizard-like, within her side,

As one alone, once not alone,

『What love can ever cure this wound ?

Smooth music from the roughest stone,

No gleaning in the wide wheat plains

Breath freezes on my lips to moan:

With steadfast love, is caught away,

And cold before my summers done,

Take from my head the thorn-wreath brown!

What harm would that do? Green anon

To mark all bright hours of the day

And life that will not end in this!

Is ripe for such. What is for me,

That Heavens new wine might show more clear.

He reigns above, He reigns alone;

Around Him, changeless amid all,

And yet my days go on, go on.

And every morning with Good day