Classic Poem

You tremble, you shudder, you wince,
The trouble is hard to bear,
And Time has no power to convince
That good is the heart of despair.

You tremble, you shake, you thrill,
The bliss is too much to bear,
And Time has the power to fill
Your soul with its secret fair.

Ah, sorrow and bliss are twins,
And joy is yoke-fellow with care,
And who the sweet former wins
The weight of the other must bear.

Who feels not pain in its might,
Can feel not the sweetness rare
Of the hope that fills the night
With its moon-like lustre fair.