Discontent
LIGHT
human
nature
is
too
lightly
tost
And
ruffled
without
cause,
complaining
on—
Restless
with
rest,
until,
being
overthrown,
It
learneth
to
lie
quiet.
Let
a
frost
Or
a
small
wasp
have
crept
to
the
inner-most
Of
our
ripe
peach,
or
let
the
wilful
sun
Shine
westward
of
our
window,—straight
we
run
A
furlong's
sigh
as
if
the
world
were
lost.
But
what
time
through
the
heart
and
through
the
brain
God
hath
transfixed
us,—we,
so
moved
before,
Attain
to
a
calm.
Ay,
shouldering
weights
of
pain,
We
anchor
in
deep
waters,
safe
from
shore,
And
hear
submissive
o'er
the
stormy
main
God's
chartered
judgments
walk
for
evermore.
