How poor is comfort when the loss is great, <br />And vain all counsel to assuage a tear! <br />A light affliction it may medicine; <br />But when deep Nature groans all words are air, <br />And, like the aboriginal instrument, <br />Return on the comforter. 'Tis but a wind <br />That in the desert sows the germless sand, <br />Which by the whirlwind reaped is but sand still.<br /><br />Robert Crawford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/counsel-in-sorrow/
