Violet tender and sweet plucked from the bosom of earth
Lift up thy bonny blue eye, happy the day of thy birth.
Close in thy petals of pearl, of beautiful amethyst cling,
Fresh with the balm of the wood the odorous essence of spring;
Violet, tender and sweet.
“LONGEST LANES MUST HAVE A TURNING.”
Shall we dare to be despondent, though the way is rough and cold?
“Longest lanes must have a turning,” is a saying never old.
Who would feebly faint or falter on life’s journey? Day by day
Grateful sunbeams softly greet us, through the heavy mists of gray;
Blessed gifts the Great All-Father sends to cheer our earthly lot,
And to whisper, sweetly, fondly, that we never are forgot.
Ay, ’tis hard when dreary trouble comes to pierce the faithful heart,
And hope spreads her airy pinions as if eager to depart;
Sickness, with its hand of iron—Justice, with a frowning face,
Wilfully conspire to crush us in a cruel, stern embrace:
Shall we bow beneath the burden, though it is so hard to bear,
Or arise and do our utmost, boldly breaking from despair?
Brothers, sisters, little children,—weak with hunger, bleeding feet,—
Bravely meet the dusky foemen, make the victory complete.
Many weep o’er thy misfortunes,—courage! yet will come a friend;
Do not sink upon the highway, surely this is not the end.
Let us use our best endeavor, ever seeking out the light,—
“Longest lanes must have a turning,”—one is even now in sight.
IS THERE NOT SOMETHING WE CAN DO?
Is there not something we can do,
To smooth the rugged road?
Men struggle onward, death in view,
Each with his own great load.
Men struggle onward, weak of arm,
But chivalrous of soul;
Where is the hand to do them harm,
Or keep them from the goal.
What joy to honest worth assist,
To move the stumbling stone;
Good vantage ground is often missed
When pressing on alone.
To bring a burdened brother ease,
Though long the way and rough;
Or bid the storm of trouble cease,
We cannot do enough.