O love, it was but yesterday! Who said it was so long ago? How many times the rose hath bloomed, Why should we care to know? For it was just as sweet last June, As dewy fresh, as fair, as red, As when our first glad Eden knew The rare perfumes it shed!
O love, it was but yesterday! If yesterday is far away, As brightly on the hill-tops lies The sunshine of to-day. Sing thou, my soul! O heart, be glad! O circling years, fly swift or slow! Your ripening harvests shall not fail, Nor autumn’s utmost glow.
MARTHA
Yea, Lord!—Yet some must serve. Not all with tranquil heart, Even at thy dear feet, Wrapped in devotion sweet, May sit apart!
Yea, Lord!—Yet some must bear The burden of the day, Its labor and its heat, While others at thy feet May muse and pray!
Yea, Lord!—Yet some must do Life’s daily task-work; some Who fain would sing, must toil Amid earth’s dust and moil, While lips are dumb!
Yea, Lord!—Yet man must earn, And woman bake the bread! And some must watch and wake Early, for others’ sake, Who pray instead!
Yea, Lord!—Yet even thou Hast need of earthly care. I bring the bread and wine To thee, O Guest Divine! Be this my prayer!
THE HOUR
What is the hour of the day? O watchman, can you tell? Hark! from the tower of Time Strikes the alarum-bell!