 | Poems |  |
107
Perennials.
Life is a journey, and its fairest flowers
Lie in our path beneath pride's trampling feet;
Oh, let us stoop to virtue's humble bowers,
And gather those, which, faded, still are sweet.
Lie in our path beneath pride's trampling feet;
Oh, let us stoop to virtue's humble bowers,
And gather those, which, faded, still are sweet.
These way-side blossoms amulets are of price;
They lead to pleasure, yet from dangers warn;—
Turn toil to bliss, this earth to Paradise,
And sunset death to heaven's eternal morn.
They lead to pleasure, yet from dangers warn;—
Turn toil to bliss, this earth to Paradise,
And sunset death to heaven's eternal morn.
A good deed done hath memory's blest perfume,—
A day of self-forgetfulness, all given
To holy charity, hath perennial bloom
That goes, undrooping, up from earth to heaven.
A day of self-forgetfulness, all given
To holy charity, hath perennial bloom
That goes, undrooping, up from earth to heaven.
Forgiveness, too, will flourish in the skies—
Justice, transplanted thither, yields fair fruit;
And if repentance, borne to heaven, dies,
'Tis that no tears are there to wet its root.
Justice, transplanted thither, yields fair fruit;
And if repentance, borne to heaven, dies,
'Tis that no tears are there to wet its root.
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