Classic Poem

If an evil can be cured,
Set thyself to cure it;
If 'tis but to be endured,
Bravely, then, endure it.
Weak complaint and peevish fret
Never banished trouble yet:—
They do but insure it.

Grief hast thou, full hardly borne—
Time hath touch of healing.
Patience, yet may rays of morn
Through the night come stealing.
Trouble yet may prove a friend,
Stern, yet faithful, in the end,
Highest use revealing.

Dost thou, sad-eyed passer-by,
Bear a living sorrow—
Secret pain that may not cry—
May no pity borrow?
While thy tears in darkness flow,
Seest thou no gleams that show
Glimpse of bright to-morrow?

Patience yet; thou hopeless one!
With thy best endeavor
Give thy life. 'Tis lightly spun—
Lightest touch may sever.
At the last are rest and peace,
Serest trouble's calm surcease—
Grief is not forever.