 | The Outcast, and other poems |  |
193
EMBLEMS OF LIFE.
Life is a darkling river, freaked with light—
Its source in mist, its seeming end in night:
Yet rolling on, it finds a glorious morrow,
And flows a joyous tide, undimmed by sorrow.
Its source in mist, its seeming end in night:
Yet rolling on, it finds a glorious morrow,
And flows a joyous tide, undimmed by sorrow.
Life is a flower that hath its bud and bloom—
Its day of sunshine, and its hour of doom;
Yet as the stalk lies withering in the vale,
The heaven-bent fragrance fills the passing gale.
Its day of sunshine, and its hour of doom;
Yet as the stalk lies withering in the vale,
The heaven-bent fragrance fills the passing gale.
Life is a wave, by tempests often torn,
Giving its voice with other waves to mourn—
Yet the warm sunbeam comes with sparkling dies,
And woos that wave in vapor to the skies.
Giving its voice with other waves to mourn—
Yet the warm sunbeam comes with sparkling dies,
And woos that wave in vapor to the skies.
Life is a rill—its birth in yonder mountain—
Its destiny, yon ocean's shoreless fountain—
Yet the bright drops, untainted in the brine,
Blend with the billows, and undying shine.
Its destiny, yon ocean's shoreless fountain—
Yet the bright drops, untainted in the brine,
Blend with the billows, and undying shine.
| The Outcast, and other poems | |