Poems (Ryan)/There's None

by Mary C. Ryan

POEMS.

 

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THERE'S NONE.

In this proud world there's none
 But has imbosomed in his inmost heart,
Mem'ries of days now gone,
 Which to the kindest fate a gloom impart.

There's none that never wept,
 Nor felt earth's curse. Each bears a secret grief,
That from the world is kept—
 Some poignant pang that never finds relief.

For oft o'er lowly graves,
 Where fond and dear ones were forever laid,
The breast in anguish heaves
 As loving hands strew flowers o'er the dead.

Through years of toil and strife,
 The friends once loved can never be forgot,
Vicissitudes of life,
 But prove their friendship and the good they wrought.

Fleet are the joys of earth,
 E'en like a mirage they elude our grasp;
And men in scenes of mirth,
 Encounter oft a deadly, subtle asp.

Earth's triumphs e'en are vain,
 Like bright-hued bubbles on the wings of rhyme.
"Is life worth living then?"
 This query rings through corridors of time.

In sapphire skies above,
 An Elysium for the sainted dead;
A home of peace and love—
 Is life worth living when this is its meed?

The seeds in earth are sown.
 They die; but spring to life in April's rain;
We, too, must soon go down
 To the vile dust, but we shall live again.

So in life's deepest gloom,
 Never despair. Time's a meteor bright.
And lo! beyond the tomb
 Terrestrial griefs are changed to pure delight.