Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

Oh! do not suppose that my hours
Are always unclouded and gay;
Or that thorns never mix with the flowers
That fortune has strew'd in my way:
When seen by the cold and unfeeling,
We smile through the sorrows we feel;
But smiles are deceitful—concealing
The wounds which they never can heal.

255

II

The world is a changeable ocean,
And sunbeams and shadows abound;
Where the surface seems least in commotion,
The rocks of misfortune are found:—
And man is the pilot, who steering,
Of every billow the sport,
Sees the gale of prosperity veering,
Which promised to waft him to port.

III

Our hopes are the gales that serenely
Waft onward our sails as we float;
Our tears are the whirlwinds that keenly
O'erwhelm our poor perishing boat;
And reason's the beacon that gives us
It's light through life's perilous way,
But folly's the ray that deceives us,
And leads us too often astray.

IV

Our moments of mirth may be many,
And hope half our sorrow beguiles;
But, believe me, there cannot be any
Whose features are always in smiles.
The heart may be sad and repining,
Though cheerfulness brightens the scene,
As a goblet with gems may be shining,
Though bitter the potion within.

V

A glittering volume may cover
A story of sorrow and woe;
And night's gayest meteors may hover
Where dangers lie lurking below;
Thus oft, in the sunshine of gladness,
The cheek and the eye may be drest,
Whilst the clouds of dejection and sadness
In secret o'ershadow the breast.