I hark to him who compliments,
Within my eyes a sparkling light.
I play the game,—nor does he guess
Its fire has burned to ashes white.
They count me merriest of all.
Not one who notes the deep-down sigh,
Who lists—Life’s tragic undertone,—
We’ve said good-bye—we’ve said good-bye.
COUNSEL
HAVE you balked at the test you’ve been put to,
Are you weary of straining a point?
Is the fight too hard, the way too long?
Is there too much of sighing, too little of song?
Does ev’ry thing seem to be going wrong?
The scheme entire, as it were, out of joint?
Then lend me an ear whilst I counsel awhile,
You must take a fresh grip, my friend,
The game is yours if you’ll make it your own,
Defeat is a word that need never be known.
He who sticks in his mount, cannot be thrown,
Let his steed strive its best to that end.
The sun goes down with the gloom of each night,
But it rises again with each morn,
And there’s so much of brightness to be gathered in,
Such wonderful happiness ours to win,
Throw despair to the winds, and anew begin,
Standing forth—the Mortal re-born!
DECISION
AT times, I think, were we to talk it over
The something wanting in your life and mine,
We might arrive at clearer understanding
The cause of our unhappiness define.