Grief dies like joy; the tears upon my cheek <br />Will disappear like dew. Dear God! I know <br />Thy kindly Providence hath made it so, <br />And thank thee for the law. I am too weak <br />To make a friend of Sorrow, or to wear, <br />With that dark angel ever by my side <br />(Though to thy heaven there be no better guide), <br />A front of manly calm. Yet, for I hear <br />How woe hath cleansed, how grief can deify, <br />So weak a thing it seems that grief should die, <br />And love and friendship with it, I could pray, <br />That if it might not gloom upon my brow, <br />Nor weigh upon my arm as it doth now, <br />No grief of mine should ever pass away.<br /><br />Henry Timrod<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-07/
