Avoiding all life's pleasant ways
Their life is always clouded,
They see no happy sunny days,
For all in gloom is shrouded;
They never see the flowers that bloom
As on Life's road they ramble,
But in the darkest paths of gloom
Are seeking for a bramble.
The pleasures of this life do not
Depend on its surrounding,
But if the heart's trained as it ought,
Content will be abounding;
The silent heart's the seat of joy,
And by continual training
Life's trials scarcely will annoy
The soul where peace is reigning.
Then tell me not Fate made them so,
And they cannot avoid it,
That all their life is doomed to woe,
And they have not alloyed it;
For all the while they court their grief,
Unwilling to forsake it,
And in the way they seek relief,
Their life is what they make it.
The atmosphere may be redolent
With fragrance from some happy soul
Whose unconscious influence has sent
Attractive power, like magnetic pole,
Till laugh of bright eyes is contagious,
Infectious, the mirth of a smile,
And the ominous brow umbrageous,
Casts aside its lowerings vile.
THE LONE BIRD.
A solitary bird was seen by the writer, making its toilsome flight against a strong storm-wind. The peculiar undulating flight, the gathering darkness of the night, and the portentous indications of storm suggested this:
Whither away on such winged undulations,
Breasting the winds and the tempests wild glee,
Lifting your form in graceful vibrations
As onward you move like a billowy sea?
Alone, all alone, on wing wide extended,
Nerved for the tempest that sounds not afar,
Night her dark mantle o'er earth has suspended,
Thro' which may not shine e'en the light of one star.