Courage, my friend Battus,
To-morrow perhaps will be more favorable;
While there is life there is hope,
The dead alone are without hope.
Jove shines brightly one day,
And the next showers down rain.
by Emily Dickinson
238
Kill your Balm-and its Odors bless you-
Bare your Jessamine-to the storm-
And she will fling her maddest perfume-
Haply-your Summer night to Charm-
Stab the Bird-that built in your bosom-