Weakest Thing, The
Which is the weakest thing of all
Mi ponder?
The sun, a little cloud pall
With darkness yonder?
The cloud, a little wind move
Whereer 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 wring
My lips asunder -
Then is mi the weakest thing
Itself 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 darkenihly curse
To glory breakest, -
The Stro of the universe
Guarding the weakest!
Elizabeth Barrett Browning