 | The lion's cub |  |
HOW AND WHY.
If one could understandThe things that are close at hand,
The How and the Why,
He never need die.
The flowers which bloom,
With their hidden perfume,
Where the spider weaves in its fairy loom;
The rivulet which sings
Of the far-off springs;
The leaf on the tree,
Dancing in glee
To an inward melody;
Trees, spiders, flowers declare
Secrets of earth and air,
And all make reply:
“O man, you need not die.”
But there cometh—from where?
This voice of despair.
“The order of Nature
Doth this way tend;
Whatever was begun
Will surely have an end.”
| The lion's cub | |