Robert Lee Frost

Happiness Makes up in Height for What It Lacks in Length

 Oh, stormy stormy world,
 The days you were not swirled
 Around with mist and cloud,
 Or wrapped as in a shroud,
 And the sun’s brilliant ball
 Was not in part or all
 Obscured from mortal view
 Were days so very few
 I can but wonder whence
 I get the lasting sense
 Of so much warmth and light.
 If my mistrust is right
 It may be altogether
 From one day’s perfect weather,
 When starting clear at dawn,
 The day swept clearly on
 To finish clear at eve.
 I verily believe
 My fair impression may
 Be all from that one day
 No shadow crossed but ours
 As though its blazing flowers
 We went from house to wood
 For change of solitude.