Art thou no prouder than the crow?
If thou wert human, thou’dst surely be,—
Men’s envious ways would make thee so,
But ’tis much better as thou art;
Then art thou naught but satisfied,—
Thou feel’st no pain, nor aching heart;
Thou hast no want, nor blinding pride.
SMILES AND TEARS
O that these precious smiles we smile to-day
Were always smiles,—could last for aye and aye;