Is dull and tasteless to the unthankful breast,
Love loveless, youth old age, and pleasure pain.
Rev. E. Hamley.
What is life?—like a flower, with the bane in its bosom,
To-day, full of promise, to-morrow it dies!
And health like the dewdrop that hung on its blossom,
Survives but a night, and exhales to the skies:
How oft ’neath the bud that is brightest and fairest,
The seeds of the canker in embryo lurk!
How oft at the root of the flower that is rarest,