Some have sounding name and title,
Here upon the earth;
Others dwell apart from glory--
No one knows their worth.
Some have wealth, and fame, and beauty,
All the things that please;
Some are poor, and plain and lonely.
(I am one of these.)
Some complain, in midst of pleasures,
Of a hard, sad lot,
Doubting God, denying heaven,
Loving, trusting not.
Others, hedged about with sorrows,
Do, on bended knees,
Praise and bless the Lord forever.
(I am one of these.)
[A FANCY]
Drop down the crimson curtains,
And shut out the dazzling snow,
The cold white mantle that covers
The hills, where the grasses should grow;
And stir up the fire till it burneth,
With a heat like the midsummer sun,
And hang up the cage by the window,
And bring in the plants, one by one.
Till they perfume the air with a fragrance
As rare as the summer can bring.
And call to the bird, till he trilleth
The sweetest of notes he can sing.
And let me lie here, while you fan me,
Till the lazy air stirs, like a breeze,
That comes o'er the hills in the summer,
And rustles the tops of the trees.
Then sing me a song of the summer,
A song full of warmth and sunlight,
And I will forget that the winter
Stalks over the earth in his might.
I will dream that I lie in the clover,
And your voice is the voice of the breeze,
And the bird in the cage is the robin,
That sends down his song from the trees.
1871
[TIRED]
My heart and soul are all too tired to tell;
So weary, Lord,
Of this long, ceaseless work of doing well,
Without reward.
Oh, I have been thy servant now for years,
Nor made complaint,
Though my life cup has been abrim with tears,
But now I faint.