Richard Watson Gilder

The New Day. Part 2. 3. “Come to Me Ye Who Suffer”

Come to me ye who suffer, for to all
⁠     I am a brother now! 'T was not in vain
     ⁠I saw the face of Sorrow; she who slain
⁠     Yet lives; whose voice when she doth weep and call
Is silent. When she weeps? Nay, nay! the pall
⁠     Is on her tears too—they are dead. The rain
⁠     Is molten-hot, dust-dry from her dull pain,
⁠     Like ashes from the burning heavens that fall.
I know the world-wide, lovely, living lie;
⁠     I know the truth that better were unknown;
⁠     I know the joyful laugh that is a cry
Torn from a heart whence hope and faith have flown,
⁠     And yet beats on, and will not, dare not die.
⁠     I know the anguish without word or moan.