Poems (Hazlett-Bevis)/It is Always So

by Sophia Courtoulde Hazlett-Bevis

It is Always So.

There is always in every pleasure
 A something akin to pain,
The heart, tho' brim full of treasure,
 Beats ever a sad refrain.

The laugh that is gayest is fleetest,
 A sigh oft follows its tone
As the song that is sung, tho' sweetest,
 Has a rythmn of sadness its own.

The music of waves have a murmur,
 An undertone trenchant and deep,
As of troubled unrest, or of hope deferred:
 A something to 'waken from sleep.

If you gain the prize you have toiled for long
 And happiness seems so near,
Shadows will follow in fearful throng;
 Some one will cause you a tear.

If you find friends true, you will find them false.
 As hope to the earth is thrown
By the cruel words of a soul who halts
 To give you a cutting tone.

Birds warble sweetly, but in every note
 One may hear an echoing cry;
And in all peaceful zephyrs that Moat,
 From earth to the deep blue sky.

Tin-re's a sigh, and a moan, and a whisper of tears.
 And a drift of the "might have been;"
Just as the moon her shadow clears,
 A cloud comes shifting between.

It is always so, as the right and the wrong
 Go wandering hand in hand;
So will the sadness follow the song,
 While sung on this earthly land.

The clouds will follow the sunshine,
 The rain will softly fall
Into all lines, both yours and mine,
 It is thus for one and all.

But oh, it is something to think of,
 Something to cherish most dear:
That after all, there's a boundless love
 To wipe away every tear.