Poems (Hoffman)/The Waters of Marah
THE WATERS OF MARAH.
We may laugh and sing, we may dance and jest, As if life were only gladness;But where every heart's deep fountain starts, There's a little pool of sadness.
Where the waters of Marah stagnant lie, Or rise to its brim o'erflowing;Where the spirit sighs while its music dies, When no one else is knowing.
O life should be like a sweet, glad tune, From the year's dull keys ascending;Like the wild-bird's song in the heart of June, But broadening and never ending!
Yet each must know where the sobbing notes Drown often the tones of pleasure;Like a laughing brook o'er its cold sharp stones, Is the song in its changing measure.
In the whirling dance in the festal hall, Where human hearts seem lightest;In the golden glare of pride and wealth, Where life seems best and brightest.
There is many a frozen marble smile, On the sculptured lips of pleasure;And many who try to drown a while, The toil of life's dull measure.