For "the memory of joy is a sadness" —
The dim twilight after the day;
And the grave where we bury a gladness
Sends a grief like a ghost, on our way.
No day shall return that has faded,
The dead come not back from the tomb;
The vale of each life must be shaded,
That we may see best from the gloom.
The height of the homes of our glory,
All radiant with splendors of light;
That we may read clearly life's story —
"The dark is the dawn of the bright."
I Often Wonder Why 'Tis So
Some find work where some find rest,
And so the weary world goes on:
I sometimes wonder which is best;
The answer comes when life is gone.
Some eyes sleep when some eyes wake,
And so the dreary night-hours go;
Some hearts beat where some hearts break;
I often wonder why 'tis so.
Some wills faint where some wills fight,
Some love the tent, and some the field;
I often wonder who are right —
The ones who strive, or those who yield?
Some hands fold where other hands
Are lifted bravely in the strife;
And so thro' ages and thro' lands
Move on the two extremes of life.
Some feet halt where some feet tread,
In tireless march, a thorny way;
Some struggle on where some have fled;
Some seek when others shun the fray.
Some swords rust where others clash,
Some fall back where some move on;
Some flags furl where others flash
Until the battle has been won.