Flowers and Weeds.
[Inserted by the kind permission of J. B. Williams, Esq., Paternoster Row, London, to whom the copyright belongs.]
There is no lack of bliss in a bright world like this,
Though midst the sweet flowers that abound,
A weed here and there in our path should appear,
A stray nettle or thistle be found.
There is no joy on earth but by contrast has birth,
Then why should we grieve or be sad,
By kind Nature 'tis shown that both must be grown,
Just to show us the good from the bad.
Then come let us be gay, and sing while we may,
And prove to the world by our deeds,
Though small merit be ours, when taken as flowers,
We are no kin at all to the weeds.
Nature also makes known, by the seeds she has sown,
The blossoms she'd wish us to bear,
Nor desires that one bloom be overshadowed with gloom,
Or cankered by sorrow and care.
And so if you find a poor flowret, the wind
Of misfortune hath broken and toss'd.
Oh, haste to restore to sunshine once more!
A flower that is otherwise lost.
Then gay as before—yea, a thousand times more,
For happiness grows on good deeds—
Go, join the glad throng in the dance and the song,
And leave all the cant to the weeds.
