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MAN LABOURS FOR GLORY.
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And though he may flash like a meteor by,
Unscathed 'mid a tempest of wrath,
The red lightning gleams through the dark mid- night sky,
And leaves not a trace of its path.

Man labors for glory! The student's pale light
Burns feebly at midnight's lone hour;
Yet what does it matter! is not his heart bright
With a high intellectual power?
Rich treasures flow forth from the stores of his mind,
And flash like the stars in the sky;
But, ah! they are jewels that few care to find,
Though thick in their pathway they lie.

Man labors for glory, and labors in vain!
Yet toil on, young dreamer! for though
Thy lofty aspirings may all end in pain,
A splendor may still round thee glow;
The breath of rich incense that swells from thy cup
May one weary spirit beguile
From treasuring life's bitter memories up,
Or teach to forget with a smile.