There are many lives in this world of ours,
Crushed, and scorned, and slighted
Like these pretty flowers.
Throwing out their sweetness on the desert air,
Only seen by Him, who seeth everywhere.
LINES WRITTEN ON A STORMY NIGHT.
Let the wintry breezes blow!
What care we?
Cold or heat, rain, hail or snow;
Oh what care we?