THE WORLD.
Talk who will of the World as a desert of thrall;
Yet, yet, there's a bloom on the waste:
Though the chalice of Life hath its acid and gall,
There are honey-drops too for the taste.
Yet, yet, there's a bloom on the waste:
Though the chalice of Life hath its acid and gall,
There are honey-drops too for the taste.
We murmur and droop should a sorrow-cloud stay,
And note all the shades of our lot;
But the rich scintillations that brighten our way,
Are bask'd in, enjoy'd, and forgot.
And note all the shades of our lot;
But the rich scintillations that brighten our way,
Are bask'd in, enjoy'd, and forgot.
Those who look on Mortality's ocean aright
Will not mourn o'er each billow that rolls,
But dwell on the glories, the beauties, the might,
As much as the shipwrecks and shoals.
Will not mourn o'er each billow that rolls,
But dwell on the glories, the beauties, the might,
As much as the shipwrecks and shoals.
How thankless is he who remembers alone
All the bitter, the drear, and the dark;
Though the raven may scare with its woe-boding tone,
Do we ne'er hear the song of the lark?
All the bitter, the drear, and the dark;
Though the raven may scare with its woe-boding tone,
Do we ne'er hear the song of the lark?
We may utter farewell when 'tis torture to part;
But, in meeting the dear one again,
Have we never rejoiced with that wildness of heart,
Which outbalances ages of pain?
But, in meeting the dear one again,
Have we never rejoiced with that wildness of heart,
Which outbalances ages of pain?
Who hath not had moments so laden with bliss,
When the soul, in its fulness of love,
Would waver, if bidden to choose between this
And the Paradise promised above?
When the soul, in its fulness of love,
Would waver, if bidden to choose between this
And the Paradise promised above?
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