For works with similar titles, see Lines.
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;
Is life, then, worth the living for,
When the heart's spring is gone?
Heart-treasures, one by one;
Is life, then, worth the living for,
When the heart's spring is gone?
Care after care rests on the soul—
Fresh trials year by year—
Until the heart is worn away
By time's dark impress here.
Fresh trials year by year—
Until the heart is worn away
By time's dark impress here.
They tell me age brings to the heart
A deadened sense of pain;
If grief and trials lose one pang,
Who would be young again?
A deadened sense of pain;
If grief and trials lose one pang,
Who would be young again?