Page:Poems Denver.djvu/208

And not to think the bud and blossom
Could bloom for all but my own bosom,
Or sunshine rain on all around,
While in my own heart darkness frowned.

I ask no more; the laurel wreath
 That won me on with many a smile,
A clustering blossom lies beneath
 Wherein lurk poison, care and guile.
I touch the chords no more in sadness,
I sing no more of memory's madness,
I dream no more that life is vain;
The jewel lost is found again.

Could we but read the heart aright,
 Could we but learn in Heaven to trust,
How much of doubt would take its flight,
 How much would shine, now dim with rust!
We then should read from others' feelings
Those pure and exquisite revealings
That lead the heart in bliss along,
And never speak, except in song.

Oh Thou! who dwellest so far above,
 Grant me some portion of Thy might,
To never speak, except in love,
 To never judge, unless aright.