I can be brave." A woman's eyes

Gazed fearlessly into his own.

[Pg 20]

 THIRD When all the world has grown full cold to thee, And man—proud pygmy—shrugs all scornfully, And bitter, blinding tears flow gushing forth, Because of thine own sorrows and poor plight, Then turn ye swift to nature's page, And read there passions, immeasurably far Greater than thine own in all their littleness. For nature has her sorrows and her joys, As all the piled-up mountains and low vales Will silently attest—and hang thy head In dire confusion, for having dared To moan at thine own miseries When God and nature suffer silently. [Pg 21]

THIRD

When all the world has grown full cold to thee,

And man—proud pygmy—shrugs all scornfully,

And bitter, blinding tears flow gushing forth,

Because of thine own sorrows and poor plight,

Then turn ye swift to nature's page,

And read there passions, immeasurably far

Greater than thine own in all their littleness.

For nature has her sorrows and her joys,

As all the piled-up mountains and low vales

Will silently attest—and hang thy head

In dire confusion, for having dared

To moan at thine own miseries

When God and nature suffer silently.

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