 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
JOY AND GRIEF.
The present sorrow, being in the deed,Still distances those in expectancy;
And casts into the rear the griefs gone by,
Though Memory make afresh the old wound bleed,
And their ghosts haunt us still, never quite laid!
The coming griefs, like thunder in clear sky,
May startle, or on the foreboding eye
Their shadows cast before, yet less we heed.
The present wine doth sparkle in the bowl
More bright than that in which we pledged the health
Of our “first love,” wherein his very soul
Youth cast, the madcap! prodigal of wealth,
Like Cleopatra's pearl! That prize Love stole;
But Time can steal e'en Love, cap stealth by stealth!
| Stones from The Quarry | |