I THINK we are too ready with complaint In this fair world of God`s. Had we no hope Indeed beyond the zenith and the slope Of yon gray blank of sky, we might grow faint To muse upon eternity`s constraint Round our aspirant souls; but since the scope Must widen early, is it well to droop, For a few days consumed in loss and taint ? O pusillanimous Heart, be comforted And, like a cheerful traveller, take the road Singing beside the hedge. What if the bread Be bitter in thine inn, and thou unshod To meet the flints ? At least it may be said ` Because the way is short, I thank thee, God. `SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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