| Share page | Visit Us On FB |
|
128 |
OTHER VERSE |
||
|
And all that may be done is done, to veil his
bier. Aye, bitter 'tis, indeed, that men must pass
away, And buried be in living hearts and in the clay.
'Tis pitiful to see a man at life's mid-day
With all ambition gone; the weak and nerveless
prey Of baseless fears, or indolence ; full well content To have the shining days that God has kindly
sent, Go trooping by, nor find amid them all, not one In which some worthy work may worthily be
done; Who caring not for all the duties men may owe Each other here, recks not of human weal or
woe. 'Tis better to be dead and buried out of sight Than dead, and buried not; a useless, idle wight. |
|||
|
THE TIGER'S CUB.
The tiger's cub was gentle, and it played with a
little child; Its feet were velvet cushions, and its brown eyes
meek and mild. |
|||