Poem by Richard Watson Gilder

The New Day. Part 4. 14. Weal and Woe

O highest, strongest, sweetest woman-soul!
⁠     Thou holdest in the compass of thy grace
⁠     All the strange fate and passion of thy race;
⁠     Of the old, primal curse thou knowest the whole.
Thine eyes, too wise, are heavy with the dole,
     ⁠The doubt, the dread of all this human maze;
⁠     Thou in the virgin morning of thy days
⁠     Hast felt the bitter waters o'er thee roll.
Yet thou knowest, too, the terrible delight,
⁠     The still content, and solemn ecstasy;
     ⁠Whatever sharp, sweet bliss thy kind may know.
Thy spirit is deep for pleasure as for woe—
     ⁠Deep as the rich, dark-caverned, awful sea
⁠     That the keen-winded, glimmering dawn makes white.

1. The New Day. Part 4. 17. “He Knows Not the Path of Duty”
2. The New Day. Part 4. 7. Song (Years have flown since I knew thee first)
3. The New Day. Part 3. 7. Body and Soul
4. The New Day. Part 4. 2. The Mirror
5. The New Day. Part 4. 6. “I Count My Time by Times That I Meet Thee”

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