Men's Divinior

Love is born in joy,
And is bred in sorrow,
Cloudy-dark to-day,
Sunshiny to-morrow;
Changing through each season,
Without any reason.

Reason! — let it bend
To an instinct finer;
True as are its rules,
There is " mind diviner "
Shining o'er its summing,
Like an angel's coming;

Thoughts that pass the stars,
Love more sweet than flowers,
Faith that stedfast shines
Through the endless hours;
Brightening every season,
True, — yet passing reason.

Measure, if thou wilt,
Light, and air, and ocean;
Leave us, undefaced,
Our divine emotion, —
Poet's, prophet's story,
And the world of Glory.

You, whose poor-house balance
Weighs out want and crime;
You, whose sordid ledgers
Crush the poet's rhyme,
Leave us tears and laughter.
And the hope of hopes, — Eternal bright Hereafter!
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