Life Or Death?

Is there a secret Joy, that may not weep, For every flower that ends its little span, For every child that groweth up to man, For every captive bird a cage doth keep, For every aching eye that went to sleep Long ages back, when other eyes began To see and know and love as now they can, Unravelling God's wonders heap by heap? Or doth the Past lie 'mid Eternity In charnel dens that rot and reek alway, A dismal light for those that go astray, A pit of foul deformity-to be, Beauty, a dreadful source of growth for thee When thou wouldst lift thine eyes to greet the day?