LIFE.
Life is a problem strange and deep, A hope, a dream, a prayer,—A breath blown from the Infinite,— A sigh of the swaying air.We live, we wake to soul and sense, The heart beats strong and free,Our frail ships fling their sails abroad Over a throbbing sea.
Our loving ones and those we love, The friend and secret foe,Fill up the book of human life With joy and pride, or woe.And when our dear ones drift across Death's tossing, boundless sea,We vail our hearts in grief, and weep That they have ceased to be.
A little life fast throbbing out, Some mother's dying child,
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