Toil

Alas, íor the young hearts awaklng, To the hopos aud tbe sin and the breaklug And the prodigal tears Oí the burdensome years That elow bright in the'f uture with promlse I Mas, that the dreams whlch we cherish In the lires of fruition slioulU peri&h ; Tbat lt darkens the Ou When toe real is won And wc tvuii-li ho lilcal froin usl The story is ever repeated Of Youth's aspirations defeated. We battle and dream Of achievement supreme; Bat, ah 1 the deeeitf ui to-niorrow Is forever lts promise xying, And the tear-drops forever are drylng On hope's fallen leaves Where hunianity grieve, Ciad abont with the mantlc of sorrow. The coal where we thought that the bunlen Would fall, and the coveted guerdon Of rest would be found, Is the desolate bound Where a demon of restless endeavor Rises up in the bosom to taunt us With taeks that still lure and daunt U3, TUI vro turn oneo ap;aln To the buttlo with men In the glare of the pltiless Never. Aye; Imt labor is manfullv human. Toil, toil is the tost of Uk: truc man; Thougli suCcess yiold him light, Thoufrh ho roei in tbe Bght, Thouh hls pftthway be Bunlesa anl dreary, Still he fi'ds for his bSirdon-bent brothers, Andshrinks trom the uoodnoss that sraothers The fei'lina llvlne )f the heart-throb bemni That would hold tip the hands of theweary.