THE CHILD AND THE SAGE
You say, O Sage, when weather-checked,
"I have been favoured so
With cloudless skies, I must expect
This dash of rain or snow."
"Since health has been my lot," you say,
"So many months of late,
I must not chafe that one short day
Of sickness mars my state."
You say, "Such bliss has been my share
From Love's unbroken smile,
It is but reason I should bear
A cross therein awhile."
And thus you do not count upon
Continuance of joy;
But, when at ease, expect anon
A burden of annoy.
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