Page:Poems (IA poems00clar).pdf/19

Rh Then like the tender flower Be ye, oh, weary man! In countless ways God blesseth you,- Deny it if you can. You've love to cheer your heart, You've strength, and gracious health; l'or these full many a lordly peer Would gladly yield his wealth. Never despair! it kills the life, And digs an early grave; The man who rails so much at Fate But makes himself her slave. Up! rouse ye to the work! Resolve to victory gain; And hopes shall rise, and bear rich fruit, Which long in dust have lain.

! ah, can it be Mine eyes behold thy towers? The slanting sunlight pours on thee Its floods of crimson lowers ; Thy heights rise up, dim, weird, and grim, Against the blood-red sky: Jerusalem! Jerusalem! In holy awe I cry.