GRIEF’S PHILOSOPHY.
By William Maxwell Hetherington
“This world is but a dream,
Peopled with forms ideal –
Dark gloom, or sunny gleam,
Fear’s night-cloud, Hope’s day-beam,
Are all alike unreal.
“We love, we hate in vain –
Joys, sorrows, all deceive us;
The gust of bliss or pain, –
Hope’s rainbow, Misery’s chain,
Flatter, torment, and leave us.”
“Life! ’tis an aimless path,
Harsh, pleasureless, and dreary;
A contest waged with death, –
A fitful, anxious breath, –
Troubled, oppressed, and weary!”
But who, dark one! art thou,
At the world and life thus railing?
Go, hide thy gloomy brow,
Where spray-mists shroud the bough,
And caverned winds are wailing!
“Yes, I may hide my head,
Where life-scenes ne’er shall wake me;
Loves, friends, are lost, are dead,
Joys, hopes, afar are fled,
Wishes, even fears, forsake me!”
Yet raise thy head on high,
Thou timid, weak immortal!
Thy home’s beyond the sky –
The woes that cloud thine eye,
Mere shadows in life’s portal!
Though thine alone could be
Whole earth, with all its treasures,
Heir of Eternity!
Oh, what is Time to thee!
Its fleeting pains and pleasures!
Take all – take every wish –
Joy’s sparkling nectar draining,
Swift to thy longings rush!
Thy grasp the rose will crush,
But leave the thorn remaining!
Then bless thine agonies,
Life’s pleasure-snares dispelling –
Teaching thy soul to rise
To its own native skies,
Of peace, joy, love the dwelling!
1829.
By William Maxwell Hetherington
“This world is but a dream,
Peopled with forms ideal –
Dark gloom, or sunny gleam,
Fear’s night-cloud, Hope’s day-beam,
Are all alike unreal.
“We love, we hate in vain –
Joys, sorrows, all deceive us;
The gust of bliss or pain, –
Hope’s rainbow, Misery’s chain,
Flatter, torment, and leave us.”
“Life! ’tis an aimless path,
Harsh, pleasureless, and dreary;
A contest waged with death, –
A fitful, anxious breath, –
Troubled, oppressed, and weary!”
But who, dark one! art thou,
At the world and life thus railing?
Go, hide thy gloomy brow,
Where spray-mists shroud the bough,
And caverned winds are wailing!
“Yes, I may hide my head,
Where life-scenes ne’er shall wake me;
Loves, friends, are lost, are dead,
Joys, hopes, afar are fled,
Wishes, even fears, forsake me!”
Yet raise thy head on high,
Thou timid, weak immortal!
Thy home’s beyond the sky –
The woes that cloud thine eye,
Mere shadows in life’s portal!
Though thine alone could be
Whole earth, with all its treasures,
Heir of Eternity!
Oh, what is Time to thee!
Its fleeting pains and pleasures!
Take all – take every wish –
Joy’s sparkling nectar draining,
Swift to thy longings rush!
Thy grasp the rose will crush,
But leave the thorn remaining!
Then bless thine agonies,
Life’s pleasure-snares dispelling –
Teaching thy soul to rise
To its own native skies,
Of peace, joy, love the dwelling!
1829.
