Poems (E. L. F.)/Oh! there are hours
OH! THERE ARE HOURS.
Oh! there are hours that pass away,Like the bright sunshine of a day,Leaving a gladdening hope behind,Like summer sighing in the wind.Then hope is joy, and grief-forgetting manThinks life is bliss,—the world too short a span.
Oh! there are days that swiftly glide,Like the soft murmuring of the tide,Leaving a peaceful joy at heart,The memory of a brighter part.Then man, forgetting former griefs of mind,Thinks earth is paradise—and God is kind.
Oh! there are moments too, that flyLike darkened clouds across the sky, Leaving an aching anguish there,The tearless silence of despair.And then man thinks, Oh! what is life and light?A dreary, gloomy, never-ending night.
Oh! there are years that fleet so fast,That each seems shorter than the last,And man is taught each year to knowEternity's not life below.And man should bend with reasoning heart and soul,To power supreme—a viewless, felt control.