by William Wordsworth
O Life! without thy checkered scene
Of right and wrong, of weal and woe,
Success and failure, could a ground
For magnanimity be found;
For faith, ’mid ruined hopes, serene?
Or whence could virtue flow?
Pain entered through a ghastly breach –
Nor while sin lasts must effort cease;
Heaven upon earth’s an empty boast;
But, for the bowers of Eden lost,
Mercy has placed within our reach
a portion of God’s peace.