LADY of Sorrow! What though laughing blue, <br /> Thy sister, mock men’s anguish, and the sun <br /> Glare like a wrathful judge on many a one <br />That longs for night his bitter shame to rue, <br />Yet dost thou grant thy mercy of mist and dew <br /> And cloud and calm ere angry day be done, <br /> Weaving over the vault the weary shun <br />Thy veil of peace, with pity trembling through. <br /> <br />When all light loves and all brave hues are flown, <br /> When beaten hope falls from the reeling fight, <br /> And life is lone upon her desolate way, <br /> And noon is fierce, and no men see aright, <br />Then weary eyes turn unto thee, their own, <br /> Lady of Grief, the soul’s madonna, Grey. <br /> <br />II <br /> <br />Yet not in sorrow only art thou fair, <br /> For joy may know and love thee in the pall <br /> Of spray that slumbers on the waterfall, <br />Or in low cottage-smoke in evening air <br />Or in brave stone carven in glory rare, <br /> Or when the tender mists of Autumn fall <br /> Dappling the mead with beauty, and the tall <br />Stark dreaming oaks thine ancient livery wear. <br /> <br />Yet none hath known thy loveliness aright <br /> Save him who gazing in his lady’s eyes <br />Sees dim lists tossing with plumes of many a knight <br /> And woods where elfin waters gleam and glance, <br /> And all the vision and faith of old romance <br /> And the great dream of youth that never dies.<br /><br />Archibald Thomas Strong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/grey-3/
