I WONDER.
BY JAMES CLARENCE HARVEY.
I wonder if, under the grass-grown sod,
The weary human heart finds rest!
If the soul, with its woes, when it flies to God,
Leaves all its pain, in the earth's cold breast!
Or whether we feel, as we do to-day,
That joy holds sorrow in hand, alway.
I wonder if, after the kiss of death,
The love that was sweet, in days of yore.
Departs with the last, faint, fleeting breath,
Or deeper grows than ever before!
I wonder if, there in the great Unknown,
Fond hearts grow weary when left alone!
I think of the daily life I lead,
Its broken dreams and its fitful starts,
The hopeless hunger, the heart's sore need,
The joy that gladdens, the wrong that parts,
And wonder whether the coming years
Will bring contentment, or toil and tears.