Page:Hand in hand; (IA handinhand00kipl).pdf/75



IMES power is infinite: there was a day When I, in wild abasement, wept and prayed, Petitioning that it might pass away This grief, which now I bear most undismayed.

The very stones where once I bleeding strayed Now fit themselves to my accustomed feet. Look you, I laugh, who was so sore afraid, The first time I and my great grief did meet.

The bitterest potion grows by custom, sweet, Or loathing may be hidden with a smile: I have subdued the anguish that did beat About my heart, a weary weary while,

And yet, methinks it proves but little gain, That pain itself should dull my sense of pain!