But life's path lies not through a grassy dell,
In the cool of the morning's shade;
There are scorching sands, and torrents that swell,
As well as the flowery glade.
There are crags to climb in the mountains fast,
There are gorges, and canyons deep,
And the blinding snow, and the wintry blast
Must over the landscape sweep.
And the shoulders must bear a wearisome load,
Whether o'er mountain or moor,