Great sorrow makes sacred the sufferer.
The things which must be must be for the best.
Those true eyes, Too pure and too honest in aught to disguise, The sweet soul shining through them.
In life there are meetings which seem Like a fate.
Sorrows humanize our race; tears are the showers that fertilize the world.
Unseen hands delay The coming of what oft seems close in ken, And, contrary, the moment, when we say "'Twill never come!" comes on us even then.