Be still, my soul, be still; the arms you bear are brittle, <br />Earth and high heaven are fixt of old and founded strong. <br />Think rather,-- call to thought, if now you grieve a little, <br />The days when we had rest, O soul, for they were long. <br /> <br />Men loved unkindness then, but lightless in the quarry <br />I slept and saw not; tears fell down, I did not mourn; <br />Sweat ran and blood sprang out and I was never sorry: <br />Then it was well with me, in days ere I was born. <br /> <br />Now, and I muse for why and never find the reason, <br />I pace the earth, and drink the air, and feel the sun. <br />Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season: <br />Let us endure an hour and see injustice done. <br /> <br />Ay, look: high heaven and earth ail from the prime foundation; <br />All thoughts to rive the heart are here, and all are vain: <br />Horror and scorn and hate and fear and indignation-- <br />Oh why did I awake? when shall I sleep again?<br /><br />Alfred Edward Housman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/be-still-my-soul-be-still/
