 | The Poetical Works of Eliza Cook |  |
FORTUNE AND LOVE.
Let me live without Fortune if Providence will it,
For Joy can be found where small treasure is shed;
Those who bear a full cup are the aptest to spill it,
And oftentimes walk with the narrowest tread.
I care not though Fate may deny me profusion,
If earth will but show me some rays from above;
Tell me not that such light is a dreamy illusion—
I could live without Fortune, but not without Love!
For Joy can be found where small treasure is shed;
Those who bear a full cup are the aptest to spill it,
And oftentimes walk with the narrowest tread.
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If earth will but show me some rays from above;
Tell me not that such light is a dreamy illusion—
I could live without Fortune, but not without Love!
Oh! 'tis pleasant to know there are beings about us
Who tune the most exquisite strings in our heart,
To feel that they would not be happy without us,
And that we, in our loneliness, sigh when we part.
Oh! there's something divine in the thought that we cherish
A star-beam within us, that shines from above—
To know, that if all which gold gives us should perish,
The greatest of Fortune still dwells in our love!
Who tune the most exquisite strings in our heart,
To feel that they would not be happy without us,
And that we, in our loneliness, sigh when we part.
Oh! there's something divine in the thought that we cherish
A star-beam within us, that shines from above—
To know, that if all which gold gives us should perish,
The greatest of Fortune still dwells in our love!
Oh! 'tis glory to feel that we live for some others,
That Self is not all we depend on below,
That affection yet links us to sisters and brothers,
Whose faith will be constant, come weal or come woe.
Though the Vulture of trouble may harass our bosom,
Ne'er fear while our spirit is fed by the Dove;
Let the desert of Life give Eternity's blossom,
And we'll live without Fortune, while favoured by Love!
That Self is not all we depend on below,
That affection yet links us to sisters and brothers,
Whose faith will be constant, come weal or come woe.
Though the Vulture of trouble may harass our bosom,
Ne'er fear while our spirit is fed by the Dove;
Let the desert of Life give Eternity's blossom,
And we'll live without Fortune, while favoured by Love!
| The Poetical Works of Eliza Cook | |