And were they but for this, those passionate schemes <br />Of joy, that I have nursed? indeed for this <br />That longings, day and night, have filled my dreams? <br />Now it has come, the hour of bliss, <br />How different it seems! <br /> <br />So thought I bitterly: but on my bed <br />As I lay lone and restless, in my ear, <br />Falling from some far place of peace o'erhead <br />Through the still dark, I seemed to hear <br />These accents softly shed: <br /> <br />``Wouldst thou then, child, from this invading pain <br />Find refuge, and relax thy suffering will <br />In tears? To peace wouldst thou indeed attain? <br />Remember all thy courage; still <br />True to thyself remain! <br /> <br />``What is it to thee, if some wished delight. <br />That from the future beckoned thee, at last <br />Comes changed, its former glory faded quite? <br />Fly the perfidious Hours; keep fast <br />Within, the springs of light! <br /> <br />``What is it to thee, if in some dear mind <br />Another is remembered, more than thou? <br />Quench that poor envy; let no gazer find <br />Aught in thine acts or on thy brow <br />But what is sweet and kind! <br /> <br />``For how shall that pure spirit, whom vain things flee, <br />Whom passion's ebbs and floods delight not, Love <br />The consolation of the world, if he <br />Out of his course so lightly move, <br />Immortal and eternal be? <br /> <br />``Take courage! peace at last and joy attend <br />The true--fixt heart that mocks Time's envious power; <br />The heart that, tender even to the end, <br />Exacts not joy from any hour, <br />Nor love from any friend.'' <br /> <br />Alas! how oft I have wished that voice had spared <br />Its counsel stern, nor pointed me through tears <br />My path! How oft, to feet stumbling and scarred, <br />That path impossible appears; <br />Which yet is only hard.<br /><br />Robert Laurence Binyon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/disappointment-43/
