Poems (Davidson)/The Wide World is Drear

by Lucretia Maria Davidson

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,

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."

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!

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.

'Tis true that the dreams of the evening will fade,
 When reason's broad sunbeam shines calmly and clear;
Still fancy, sweet fancy, will smile o'er the shade,
 And say that the world is not lonely and drear.

O then mourn not that life is a wilderness waste!
 That each hope is illusive, each prospect is drear,
But remember that man, undeserving, is blest,
 And rewarded with smiles for the fall of a tear.