LINES.
WRITTEN AT DRUMFORK. 1848
This life is one long toil,
A vain search after pleasure;
And weariness alone is ours,
Of all we thought to treasure.
A vain search after pleasure;
And weariness alone is ours,
Of all we thought to treasure.
We meet with joy, and it is gone—
One brief flash—fading ever;
And sweetest ties that bind to life,
Are first 1n life to sever.
One brief flash—fading ever;
And sweetest ties that bind to life,
Are first 1n life to sever.
Fond words rest on the lip awhile,
To pass in gloom away;
And fonder glances "bide their time,"
To tell of love's decay.
To pass in gloom away;
And fonder glances "bide their time,"
To tell of love's decay.
All things we love do perish first:
Heart-treasures, one by one;
Heart-treasures, one by one;
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