 | Life and Literary Remains of L. E. L. |  |
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HAPPINESS WITHIN.
And yet it is a wasted heart:
It is a wasted mind
That seeks not in the inner world
Its happiness to find;
It is a wasted mind
That seeks not in the inner world
Its happiness to find;
For happiness is like the bird
That broods above its nest,
And finds beneath its folded wings,
Life's dearest, and its best.
That broods above its nest,
And finds beneath its folded wings,
Life's dearest, and its best.
A little space is all that hope
Or love can ever take;
The wider that the circle spreads,
The sooner it will break.
Or love can ever take;
The wider that the circle spreads,
The sooner it will break.
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