It was a weary hour, <br />I looked in the lily-bell. <br />How holy is the flower! <br />It leaned like an angel against the light; <br />'O soul!' it said, sighing, 'be white, be white!' <br /> <br /> <br />I stretched my arms for rest, <br />I turned to the evening cloud- <br />A vision how fair, how blest! <br />'Low heart,' it called, softly, 'arise and fly. <br />It were yours to reach levels as high as I.' <br /> <br /> <br />I stooped to the hoary wave <br />That wept on the darkening shore. <br />It sobbed to me: 'Oh, be brave! <br />Whatever you do, or dare, or will, <br />Like me to go striving, unresting still.'<br /><br />Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/overtasked/
