Marah

" The song were sweeter and better If only the thoughts were gladi" Be hidden the chafe of tho fetter, The scars of the wcmndt you have had ; Be silent of strife and endeavor, But shout of the victory won ! You may sit in the hadow forever, If only you'll sing of the sun. There are hearts, you roust kflöw, over tender With the vfihe of thé joy-cup of years ; One might dim for a moment the splendor Of eyes unaccustoined to tears : So sing, it you must, with the gladness That brimtned the lost heart of voor youth, Lest you breathe, in the song alld it èadhess, The secret of life at its truth. O, -riolets, born of the valley, You are sweet in the sunshine and the dew ; But your sisters, in yonder dini allêy, Are sweeter - and palor - than you ! O, birds, you aro blluie in the meadow, 13ut your matas of the foreat I love ; And sweeter their songs in lts shadotv, Though sadiler the singing thereof I To the vrftf in life's wildernesa The soul of the singer belongs. Small need, in your green, suitny places, Glad dwollern, have yon of roy Bougs. For you the blithe birds of the meadow Thrill silvery sweet, every one ; But I cannot sit ifi tKè shadow Furevsr, and sing of the sun.