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THE WORLD.
The world must have its own;
The best, the truest heart
Must bow before its idol-throne,
And act the trifler's part;
The world must have its own indeed,
Though the young hearts of thousands bleed.
The best, the truest heart
Must bow before its idol-throne,
And act the trifler's part;
The world must have its own indeed,
Though the young hearts of thousands bleed.
It takes the trust from youth,
And manhood's nobler faith;
From life its holiest truth,
And all its hopes from death:
The world! the world! the blight is there,
And with its breath it brings despair.
And manhood's nobler faith;
From life its holiest truth,
And all its hopes from death:
The world! the world! the blight is there,
And with its breath it brings despair.
Their earliest bloom is gone,
I see them passing on,
As victims to then doom;
They dance, and sing, and smile,
Nor do they dream the while,
Of the dark ills to come.
I see them passing on,
As victims to then doom;
They dance, and sing, and smile,
Nor do they dream the while,
Of the dark ills to come.
