118
POEMS.
And it 1s well for those whose hours
Pass as a sunny dream,
Who find no thorns among the flowers
That round their pathway gleam.
Pass as a sunny dream,
Who find no thorns among the flowers
That round their pathway gleam.
'Tis well for those so blest—so bright!
To think, 'mid scenes of mirth,
To-morrow in its course may blight
All that they prize on earth.
To think, 'mid scenes of mirth,
To-morrow in its course may blight
All that they prize on earth.
Ere, then, the present passeth by,
Oh, child of fortune, cheer
The spirit bow'd by misery,
And dry the falling tear.
Oh, child of fortune, cheer
The spirit bow'd by misery,
And dry the falling tear.
A joy that fadeth not away
Thy future course shall steep;
Sow the good seed with care to-day,
To-morrow shalt thou reap.
H. A.
Thy future course shall steep;
Sow the good seed with care to-day,
To-morrow shalt thou reap.
H. A.
