Joy is presence, grief is absence —
That small much is clear —
What was good is never lost, or
It was never here.
In our being there’s agreeing
If we’ll just but feel it —
What is good needs take no counsel
(Nor need you appeal it)
For there is a sudden season:
Life is lived, so do it —
What is good is its own reason,
That’s all there is to it
