THE WIDE WORLD IS DREAR.
O say not the wide world is lonely and dreary!
O say not that life is a wilderness waste!
There's ever some comfort in store for the weary,
And there's ever some hope for the sorrowful breast,
O say not that life is a wilderness waste!
There's ever some comfort in store for the weary,
And there's ever some hope for the sorrowful breast,
There are often sweet dreams which will steal o'er the soul,
Beguiling the mourner to smile through a tear,
That, when waking, the dew-drops of mem'ry may fall,
And blot out, forever, "the wide world is drear."
Beguiling the mourner to smile through a tear,
That, when waking, the dew-drops of mem'ry may fall,
And blot out, forever, "the wide world is drear."
There is hope for the lost, for the lone one's relief,
Which will beam o'er his pathway of danger and fear;
There is. pleasure's wild throb, and the calm "joy of grief,"
O then say not the wide world is lonely and drear!
Which will beam o'er his pathway of danger and fear;
There is. pleasure's wild throb, and the calm "joy of grief,"
O then say not the wide world is lonely and drear!
There are fears that are anxious, yet sweet to the breast,
Some feelings, which language ne'er told to the ear,
Which return to the heart, and there lingering rest,
Soft whispering, this world is not lonely and drear.
Some feelings, which language ne'er told to the ear,
Which return to the heart, and there lingering rest,
Soft whispering, this world is not lonely and drear.
