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Misjudged


Beneath Misfortune's dark and heavy cloud,
My heart sore wounded, unsubmissive bowed,
Hope after hope within me paled and died,
Until indifference and sullen pride
Usurped my nature's usual warmth and glow
And made Ambition's fire burn dim and low;
And then the world, in worldly wisdom said,
T'were better far that such a life be dead,
Than living thus, so selfish cold and drear,
Ambitionless, devoid of warmth and cheer.
And yet this comfort still remained for me;
The Finite differs from Infinity,
God understands, so I indeed am blest,
He knows it all and knowing, judges best.

Written by Olivia Ward Bush (1869-1944)

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