SONG.
Come, fill a pledge to sorrow,
The song of mirth is o’er,
And if there’s sunshine in our hearts,
’Twill light our theme the more.
And pledge we dull life’s changes,
As round the swift hours pass—
Too kind were fate, if none but gems
Should sparkle in Time’s glass.
The dregs and foam together
Unite to crown the cup—
And well we know the weal and wo
That fill life’s chalice up!
Life’s sickly revellers perish,
The goblet scarcely drained;
Then lightly quaff, nor lose the sweets
Which may not be retained.
What reck we that unequal
Its varying currents swell—
The tide that bears our pleasures down,
Buries our griefs as well.
And if the swift winged tempest
Have crossed our changeful day,
The wind that tossed our bark, has swept
Full many a cloud away!
Then grieve not that nought mortal
Endures through passing years—
Did life one changeless tenor keep,
’Twere cause indeed for tears.
And fill we, ere our parting,
A mantling pledge to sorrow;
The pang that wrings the heart to-day
Time’s touch will heal to-morrow!