Classic Poem

Who extols a wilderness?
Who hath praised indifference?
Foolish one, thy words are sweet,
But devoid of sense.

As the man who ne'er hath seen,
Or as he who cannot hear,
Is the heart that hath no part
In Love's hope and fear.

True, the blind do not perceive
The unsightly things around;
True, the deaf man trembleth not
At an awful sound.

But the face of Heaven and Earth,
And the murmur of the main,
Surely are a recompense
For a little pain.

So, tho' Love may not be free
Always from a taint of grief,
If its sting is very sharp,
Great is its relief.