Then, Most, I Smile
Late it is to look so proud,
by Victor Marie Hugo
Daisy queen! come is the gloom
Of the winter-burdened cloud!--
'But, in winter, most I bloom!'
Star of even! sunk the sun!
Lost for e'er the ruddy line;
And the earth is veiled in dun,--
'Nay, in darkness, best I shine!'
O, my soul! art 'bove alarm,
Quaffing thus the cup of gall--
Canst thou face the grave with calm?--
'Yes, the Christians smile at all.'