Swami Vivekananda
If things go ill or well,
If joy rebounding spreads the face,
Or sea of sorrows swells,
It is a dream, a play.
A play, we each have a part
Each one to weep or laugh as may;
Each one his dress to don,
Alternate shine or rain.
Thy touch makes desert bloom to life,
Harsh thunder, sweetest song,
Fell death, the sweet release.
Thou dream, O blessed dream!
Spread far and near thy veil of haze,
Tone down the lines so sharp,
Make smooth what roughness seems.
No magic but in thee!