SONG OF THE RUSHLIGHT.
While they still leave untarnish'd soul,
The iron rod of stern control
Should be but gentle in its sway;
Nor rend the magic veil away.
The iron rod of stern control
Should be but gentle in its sway;
Nor rend the magic veil away.
I doubt if it be kind or wise
To quench the light in opening eyes,
By preaching fallacy and woe
As all that we can meet below.
I ne'er respect the ready tongue.
That augurs sorrow to the young;
That aptly plays a sibyl's part,
To promise nightshade to the heart.
Let them exult! their laugh and song
Are rarely known to last too long.
Why should we strive with cynic frown
To knock their fairy castles down?
We know that much of pain and strife
Must be the common lot of life:
We know the world is dark and rough,
But Time betrays that soon enough.
To quench the light in opening eyes,
By preaching fallacy and woe
As all that we can meet below.
I ne'er respect the ready tongue.
That augurs sorrow to the young;
That aptly plays a sibyl's part,
To promise nightshade to the heart.
Let them exult! their laugh and song
Are rarely known to last too long.
Why should we strive with cynic frown
To knock their fairy castles down?
We know that much of pain and strife
Must be the common lot of life:
We know the world is dark and rough,
But Time betrays that soon enough.
SONG OF THE RUSHLIGHT.
Oh! scorn me not as a fameless thing,
Nor turn with contempt from the song I sing.
'Tis true, I am not suffer'd to be
On the ringing board of wassail glee:
My pallid gleam must never fall
In the gay saloon or lordly hall;
But many a tale does the rushlight know
Of secret sorrow and lonely woe.
Nor turn with contempt from the song I sing.
'Tis true, I am not suffer'd to be
On the ringing board of wassail glee:
My pallid gleam must never fall
In the gay saloon or lordly hall;
But many a tale does the rushlight know
Of secret sorrow and lonely woe.
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