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Poem	Which is the weakest thing of all Mine heart can ponder? The sun, a little cloud can pall With darkness yonder? The cloud, a little wind can move Where'er it listeth? The wind, a little leaf above, Though sere, resisteth? What time that yellow leaf was green, My days were gladder; But now, whatever Spring may mean, I must grow sadder. Ah me! a leaf with sighs can wring My lips asunder— Then is mine heart the weakest thing Itself can ponder. Yet, Heart, when sun and cloud are pined And drop together, And at a blast, which is not wind, The forests wither, Thou, from the darkening deathly curse To glory breakest,— The Strongest of the universe Guarding the weakest!
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