 | Duganne's Poetical Works |  |
383
SONG OF LIFE.
SO MOTE it be!
If sorrow press our sinking souls—
If misery's tempest o'er us rolls,—
If wrecked we are on Fortune's shoals,—
So mote it be!
This merry strain the sexton trolls,
And so troll we.
If sorrow press our sinking souls—
If misery's tempest o'er us rolls,—
If wrecked we are on Fortune's shoals,—
So mote it be!
This merry strain the sexton trolls,
And so troll we.
So mote it be!
Is friendship false? is love betrayed?
Our being's sunshine turned to shade?
Do all our joys but bloom to fade?—
So mote it be!
The woe upon our hearts is laid:
We cannot flee.
Is friendship false? is love betrayed?
Our being's sunshine turned to shade?
Do all our joys but bloom to fade?—
So mote it be!
The woe upon our hearts is laid:
We cannot flee.
So mote it be!
Shall death, in fearful guise, draw near,
And turn our brightest hopes to fear,
And friends shall o'er us shed no tear,—
So mote it be!
Through life our souls are wearied here—
In death are free.
Shall death, in fearful guise, draw near,
And turn our brightest hopes to fear,
And friends shall o'er us shed no tear,—
So mote it be!
Through life our souls are wearied here—
In death are free.
384
So mote it be!
If there in truth should be a heaven,
If there our sins are all forgiven,
If there our hearts no more are riven,—
So mote it be!
To port, at last, we shall be driven,
From life's rough sea.
If there in truth should be a heaven,
If there our sins are all forgiven,
If there our hearts no more are riven,—
So mote it be!
To port, at last, we shall be driven,
From life's rough sea.
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