Unless
Who has not wanted, does not guess What plenty is.—Who has not groped In depths of doubt and hopelessness,
Has never truly hoped.— Unless, sometimes, a shadow falls Upon his mirth, and veils his sight,
And from the darkness drifts the light Of love at intervals.
And that most dear of everything,
I hold, is love; and who can sit With lightest heart and laugh and sing,
Knows not the worth of it.— Unless, in some strange throng, perchance,
He feels how thrilling sweet it is,
One yearning look that answers his — The troth of glance and glance.
Who knows not pain, knows not, alas!
What pleasure is.—Who knows not of The bitter cup that will not pass,
Knows not the taste of love.
O souls that thirst, and hearts that fast,
And natures faint with famishing,
God lift and lead and safely bring You to your own at last!
James Whitcomb Riley
Other author posts
When The Frost Is On The Punkin
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder's in the shock, And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin' turkey-cock, And the clackin' of the guineys, and the cluckin' of the hens, And the rooster's hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence...
A Poets Wooing
I woo'd a woman once, But she was sharper than an eastern wind TennysonWhat may I do to make you glad, To make you glad and free,
The Merman
Who would beA merman gay, Singing alone, Sitting alone, With a mermaid's knee,
To A Boy Whistling
The smiling face of a happy With its enchanted Is now unlocking in My store of heartiest joy
