Джон Кеньон (John Kenyon)

Recalling

  My happier life's departed joy!
  But whom no more our sorrows press!
  When lesser griefs this mind annoy,
  Or the heart strives in strong distress,
  Though Thou all ills wert wont to cheer,
  It is not then I wish Thee here.
  But when impend nor clouds nor storms,
  Earth—sky—when each its calm imparts,
  And beauty breathes from outward forms,
  And, better still, from inward hearts,
  Since these things were to Thee most dear,
  'Tis then I sigh to have Thee here.

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