Bury thy sorrows, and they shall rise <br />As souls to the immortal skies, <br />And there look down like mothers' eyes. <br /> <br />But let thy joys be fresh as flowers, <br />That suck the honey of the showers, <br />And bloom alike on huts and towers. <br /> <br />So shall thy days be sweet and bright; <br />Solemn and sweet thy starry night, <br />Conscious of love each change of light. <br /> <br />The stars will watch the flowers asleep, <br />The flowers will feel the soft stars weep, <br />And both will mix sensations deep. <br /> <br />With these below, with those above, <br />Sits evermore the brooding dove, <br />Uniting both in bonds of love. <br /> <br />For both by nature are akin; <br />Sorrow, the ashen fruit of sin, <br />And joy, the juice of life within. <br /> <br />Children of earth are these; and those <br />The spirits of divine repose - <br />Death radiant o'er all human woes. <br /> <br />O, think what then had been thy doom, <br />If homeless and without a tomb <br />They had been left to haunt the gloom! <br /> <br />O, think again what now they are - <br />Motherly love, tho' dim and far, <br />Imaged in every lustrous star. <br /> <br />For they, in their salvation, know <br />No vestige of their former woe, <br />While thro' them all the heavens do flow. <br /> <br />Thus art thou wedded to the skies, <br />And watched by ever-loving eyes, <br />And warned by yearning sympathies.<br /><br />George Meredith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sorrow-and-joys/
