Explore "Weather of the Soul" by Bliss Carman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
There is a world of being / We range from pole to pole, / Through seasons of the spirit / And weather of the soul.
It has its new-born Aprils, / With gladness in the air, / Its golden Junes of rapture, / Its winters of despair.
And in its tranquil autumns / We halt to re-enforce / Our tattered scarlet pennons / With valor and resource.
From undiscovered regions / Only the angels know, / Great winds of aspiration / Perpetually blow,
To free the sap of impulse / From torpor of distrust, / And into flowers of joyance / Quicken the sentient dust.
From nowhere of a sudden / Loom sudden clouds of fault, / With thunders of oppression / And lightnings of revolt.
With hush of apprehension / And quaking of the heart, / There breed the storms of anger, / And floods of sorrow start.
And there shall fall, -- how gently! -- / To make them fertile yet, / The rain of absolution / On acres of regret.
Till snows of mercy cover / The dream that shall come true, / When time makes all things wondrous, / And life makes all things new.