 | Poems and Songs by E. H. B. [i.e. E. H. Bickersteth] |  |
58
“HEARTS-EASE.”
ANSWER TO A CHARADE.
I
How oft are wishes vain! the things we prize,If once attained are worthless in our eyes;
No matter what—each bauble we pursue,
When gained is left for what is rare and new.
II
Alas! 'tis thus with thee, fair maid, I ween;Thy first a heart thou wouldst subdue as queen,
Not dreaming 'tis of earth—and earthly things
At best are fleeting—time doth give them wings.
III
Thy second, ease. Ah! think'st thou to obtainThat boon below, where all our lot is pain—
Where from the cradle to the lonely bier,
Pain is our birth-right—all we win a tear?
IV
Thy whole the hearts'-ease flow'r—perchance 'twas givenTo raise our drooping thoughts from earth to heaven;
To wean the wand'rer from this drear abode,
And point from nature up to nature's God.
| Poems and Songs by E. H. B. [i.e. E. H. Bickersteth] | |