Classic Poem

CCLIX

‘Comfort at hand! Pluck up thy heart.
Look, lo, where it doth stand.
Since the redress of all thy smart
Doth lie so good at hand
Pluck up thy heart.

‘Pluck up thy heart. Why droopest thou so?’
So said I, methought,
And from the hill I looked low,
And with mine eye I sought
Comfort at hand.

‘Comfort at hand mine eye hath found,’
Methought. ‘Therefore be glad.
If she be there may heal thy wound,
Why shouldest thou then be sad?
Pluck up thy heart.

‘Pluck up thy heart. A mourning man
Doth get no good by woe.
Be glad alway, for whoso can
Shall find whereso he go
Comfort at hand.

‘Comfort at hand! Go seek and find.
Look if there be redress.
If not, abide a better wind.
In hope of some release
Pluck up thy heart.’