This much, O heaven—if I should brood or rave, <br />Pity me not; but let the world be fed, <br />Yea, in my madness if I strike me dead, <br />Heed you the grass that grows upon my grave. <br /> <br />If I dare snarl between this sun and sod, <br />Whimper and clamour, give me grace to own, <br />In sun and rain and fruit in season shown, <br />The shining silence of the scorn of God. <br /> <br />Thank God the stars are set beyond my power, <br />If I must travail in a night of wrath, <br />Thank God my tears will never vex a moth, <br />Nor any curse of mine cut down a flower. <br /> <br />Men say the sun was darkened: yet I had <br />Thought it beat brightly, even on—Calvary: <br />And He that hung upon the Torturing Tree <br />Heard all the crickets singing, and was glad.<br /><br />Gilbert Keith Chesterton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-prayer-in-darkness/
