TO PITY

You come to me in pride of gentle beauty.
What various forms hath pride! It shows to view
In the strong lion, rough mane and mighty roaring,
And in the dove, soft note and changeful hue.

A heavenly power comes with you to my sorrow;
It dawns upon the cavern's darksome night,
And enters in and spreads there like a music,
Like a sweet fragrance, like a shining light.

You give to sadness, like a good magician,
A happy truce; moved sweetly by your graces,
I bless the wound because of its pure balsam;
I love the desert for its green oasis!