II
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hough to the vilest things beneath the moonFor poor Ease’ sake I give away my heart,And for the moment’s sympathy let partMy sight and sense of truth, Thy precious boon,My painful earnings, lost, all lost, as soon,Almost, as gained; and though aside I start,Belie Thee daily, hourly,—still Thou art,Art surely as in heaven the sun at noon;How much so e’er I sin, whate’er I doOf evil, still the sky above is blue,The stars look down in beauty as before:It is enough to walk as best we may,To walk, and, sighing, dream of that blest dayWhen ill we cannot quell shall be no more.
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