Poems on Life.

POEMS ON LIFE.

NO. I.

LIFE is onward—use it
With a forward aim;
Toil is heavenly, choose it,
And its warfare claim.
Look not to another
To perform your will;
Let not your own brother
Keep your warm hand still.

Life is onward—never
Look upon the past,
It would hold you ever
In its clutches fast.—
Now is your dominion,
Weave it as you please;
Bind not the soul’s pinion
To a bed of ease.

Life is onward — try it,
Ere the day is lost;
It hath virtue—buy it
At whatever cost.
If the world should offer
Every precious gem,
Look not at the scoffer,
Change it not for them.

Life is onward—heed it
In each varied dress,
Your own act can speed it
On to happiness.
His bright pinion o’er you
Time waves not in vain,
If Hope chants before you
Her prophetic strain.

Life is onward—prize it
In sunshine and in storm;
Oh do not despise it
In its humblest form.
Hope and Joy together,
Standing at the goal,
Through Life’s darkest weather,
Beckon on the Soul.

—————

NO. II.

EVERY little spring flows on,
Loving through the day to run;
Night seals never up its fountain,
Coursing still from hill and mountain,
Its glad task it follows ever,
Filling up the steadfast river.

So each little act and thought
Is with a deep meaning fraught,
In the bright and sunny morning,
Marring life or else adorning,
In the hour of night, a story
Weaving on for shame or glory.

If the tiny stream be dry,
Trickling no more merrily
The green fields and woodlands over,
But lies hid beneath its cover,
Then the river, sluggish, weary,
Scarce moves on its pathway dreary.

Thus, if each swift day no more
Yield its tribute to life’s store,
If each little act be slighted,
And at night its torch unlighted,
Filled no more with truth and glory,
Life will be an idle story.

W.