Too familiar be those melancholy notes
Which play so tenderly amidst sorrow's storms.
Too frequent be those doleful quotes
Which render my ambitions as worms.
Yet 'tis a beauty in those mournful cries,
A handsome wisdom, sweet and strong.
Such a distracted mind seldom espies,
Neither to the carnal does it belong.
And from grinding grief, richly mirth may spring -
Bounteous blessings, through tears, may flow.
Though, in rue the death bell rings,
That it tolls with reason, we may know.
Thus, thanks be to God, for His goodness so pure,
And His comfort and mercy, misery's only cure.
This poem was a finalist in the
March 2023 poetry contest