Is it rainy, Little Flower?
Is it rainy, little flower?
Be glad of rain,
Too much sun would wither thee,
’Twill shine again;
The clouds are very black, ’tis true,
But just behind them shines the blue.
Art thou weary, tender heart?
Be glad of pain.
In sorrow sweetest things will grow,
As flowers in rain;
God watches, and thou shalt have sun,
When clouds their perfect work have done.
Poems of Dawn