NOVEMBER 103 



Forsooth, the present we must give 

 To that which cannot pass away ; 

 All beauteous things for which we live 

 By laws of time and space decay. 

 But oh, the very reason why 

 I clasp them is because they die. 



Great grief, like great joy, has a right to be selfish 

 for a time, at any rate. Everyone recognizes this, and, 

 in fact, wishes to minister to it so long as the selfishness 

 does not extend, as it -were, to the grief itself or to a 

 feeling of rebellion against the inevitable, which tends to 

 hardness and paralyses the sympathy of friends and 

 relations. 'To the old sorrow is sorrow, to the young it 

 is despair.' We must not forget this. The highest ideal 

 of how to receive grief with dignity is admirably 

 expressed in this sonnet by Mr. Aubrey de Vere, though 

 the moral reaches almost unattainable heights : 



Count each affliction, whether light or grave, 

 God's messenger sent down to thee; do thou 

 With courtesy receive him ; rise and bow 



And, ere his footsteps cross thy threshold, crave 



Permission first his heavenly feet to lave. 

 Then lay before him all thou hast, allow 

 No cloud of passion to usurp thy brow 



Or mar thy hospitality ; no wave 

 Of mortal tumult to obliterate 



The soul's marmoreal calmness. Grief should be, 

 Like joy, majestic, equable, sedate, 



Conforming, cleansing, raising, making free, 

 Strong to control small troubles, to command 

 Great thoughts, grave thoughts, thoughts lasting to the end. 



November 30th. A long, gloomy, lonely day. I 

 thought this evening I would look through a large box I 

 have upstairs full of old letters and papers left to me, 

 and which I have always intended to sort at my leisure. 

 They have been there for years, but I have never had 



