Joy in Sorrow / James Alexander Tucker

Joy in Sorrow

The dull November days are here,
Days of wan skies and landscapes drear,
When through the forest far and near
Is heard the squirrel chattering clear,
        The partridge drumming low;
When all throughout the faded land,
Like alms from some swift, scornful hand
Toss'd to a wretched beggar band,
        The gold leaves downward blow.

Anon when moons are pale on high,
Encircled in a watery sky,
Is heard the loon's last lonely cry
From shores where silent shadows lie
        Dark-dyed in depths below;
And ever through the restless night,
Afar to left and far to right,
Like some unclean and cursed sprite,
        The owl flits to and fro.

But though the world is gray and lone,
The song-birds and the flowers flown;
Though on each writhing wind is blown
The dirge of summer overthrown,
        Man is not wholly bowed.
From some unguessed, unfathom'd spell,
He feels a joy he cannot tell;
Oh, in the wild night it is well
        One star is still allowed!

Thus, when our heads are bended low,
And Death, the tyrant, smites with woe,
Our souls may catch some mystic glow
To light the dismal way; for though
        We never quite may tell
Whence comes it to the bruised heart,
Its balm and healing to impart,
Yet always with the pang, the smart,
        There cometh peace as well.

~~

James Alexander Tucker (1872-1903)

from Poems, 1904

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

James Alexander Tucker biography

Simon Harrod, Landscape in grey and brown, 2012. CC BY 2.0, Wikimedia Commons.