When our fair nature’s face dark tempests lower,
And on the poor traveller fast falls the shower,
Bright o’er the deepening shade,
Ere quite the sunbeams fade,
The rainbow is displayed
By Heaven's blest power.
’Midst darkness and horror I will not despair,
But learn with submission my sorrows to bear;
For when the clouds arise,
And from my weeping eyes,
The sight of comfort flies,
The bow is there.
O sweet is the promise of mercy so mild,
And strong the restraint laid on these passions wild
Faith wipes away my tears,
And I resign my fears,
The bow of peace appears —
To bless his child.
W.W. (William Wordsworth)