 | The high-top sweeting And Other Poems |  |
20
IF I SHOULD TELL YOU.
If I should tell you all the bitter woe
That I have known,—the lonely, toilsome years,
The trampled hopes, the sorrows deep and slow,
The lacks, the losses, and the hidden tears,—
That I have known,—the lonely, toilsome years,
The trampled hopes, the sorrows deep and slow,
The lacks, the losses, and the hidden tears,—
Your eyes would fill, your tender heart would bleed,
And you would cry, in sympathetic pain,
“Poor struggling soul, you have been tried indeed;
Ah, I shall never envy you again!”
And you would cry, in sympathetic pain,
“Poor struggling soul, you have been tried indeed;
Ah, I shall never envy you again!”
But if, instead, I should rehearse to you
The many blessings which my life has held,—
The happy days, the friends beloved and true,
The lofty hopes and dreams yet undispelled,
The many blessings which my life has held,—
The happy days, the friends beloved and true,
The lofty hopes and dreams yet undispelled,
The loves undying, and the peaceful rest,—
Your ready lips would breathe another strain:
“Thrice favored soul, you have indeed been blest;
Ah, I shall never pity you again!”
Your ready lips would breathe another strain:
“Thrice favored soul, you have indeed been blest;
Ah, I shall never pity you again!”
21
And yet both tales were true; like all the rest,
My life has had its bright and gloomy phase;
Ah, happy he who shrines within his breast
The bright reflection of his sunnier days!
My life has had its bright and gloomy phase;
Ah, happy he who shrines within his breast
The bright reflection of his sunnier days!
There is no pain without some small relief,
There is no joy without some pang untold;
The life whose web is warped with darkest grief
Holds in its woof some threads of tender gold.
There is no joy without some pang untold;
The life whose web is warped with darkest grief
Holds in its woof some threads of tender gold.
And not in vain the thorny way is crossed
By any earnest soul which, passing through,
Learns only this,—ah, lesson often lost!—
That other silent souls have suffered too.
By any earnest soul which, passing through,
Learns only this,—ah, lesson often lost!—
That other silent souls have suffered too.
So give me still, dear friend, as heretofore
Smiles for my joy, and tears for my distress,
Since every smile I deem one blessing more,
And every tear I count one sorrow less.
Smiles for my joy, and tears for my distress,
Since every smile I deem one blessing more,
And every tear I count one sorrow less.
| The high-top sweeting And Other Poems | |