IN probing Life, wise Doctors look
On it, as men must look on Life
Who, in its very breath
Read Death;
Life is but gashed to find that strife
Provokes too savage throes;
Pain’s woes
May vien
To stain
The flesh,
As fresh
As winter’s moon-white, hurried snows.
In probing Life, wise Doctors gaze
On it, as men must gaze on Life
Who, in its very breath
Read Death;
They probe to heal, but in amaze
See how it is God alters strife
To peace which, roseate, glows;
This flows
But sweet
And, fleet,
Must kiss
New bliss
Into Life, the bliss of soul-repose.
By: Caroline Edwards Prentiss
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