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Poem	LIGHT human nature is too lightly tost And ruffled without cause, complaining on-- Restless with rest, until, being overthrown, It learneth to lie quiet. Let a frost Or a small wasp have crept to the inner-most Of our ripe peach, or let the wilful sun Shine westward of our window,--straight we run A furlong's sigh as if the world were lost. But what time through the heart and through the brain God hath transfixed us,--we, so moved before, Attain to a calm. Ay, shouldering weights of pain, We anchor in deep waters, safe from shore, And hear submissive o'er the stormy main God's chartered judgments walk for evermore.
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