by Robert Laurence Binyon
Vision of peace, Joy without stain,
That on my vext heart sweetly shinest,
Hast thou, too, known the touch of pain,
Cares and dark hours, when in vain
For thy lost quiet thou repinest?
Have those eyes, in whose pure spheres
A refuge seems for all annoy,
Been indeed the place of tears?
Ah! grieve with those whom grief endears:
Still, still to me be only Joy!
Last updated January 14, 2019