Augusta Cooper Bristol (1835–1910)

SOMEWHERE await the treasures we have strewn,

Which idle hands and feet have rudely shattered;

And tenderest love shall gather as its own

The pearls thus scattered.

Somewhere the tears of broken-hearted trust,

Of patient sacrifice and self-submission,

Shall form the rainbow promise of a just

And full fruition.

Somewhere the narrow stepping-stones we tread—

The steep and terrible ascent of Duty—

Shall change to velvet terraces, o’erspread

With emerald beauty.

Somewhere the doubtful seed that we have sown

Shall well disprove a cold, uncertain rootage,

And vindicate the hope we now disown

By fairest fruitage.

Somewhere our human effort of to-day,

The faltering outcome of a pure intention,

Eternity shall hold as brave assay

And true ascension.

O Universal Soul! The finite range

Of earth and time may dwarf our high endeavor,

Yet Life is victory, through the evolving change

Of thy Forever.