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LIFE HATH ITS BARKEN YE^RS;
BRlif Life hath its barren years, , . , When blossoms fall untimely down,/ When ripened fruitage falls to crown The Summer toil; when Nature's frown Looks only on our tears.
Life hath its faithless days, ' The golden promise of the morn, That seemed for light and gladness bora, Meant only noontide wreok and scorn, - Hushed harp instead of praise.
Life hath its valleys, too, When we must talk with strait regret, With mourning clothes, with wild rain wet, Towards sunlight hopes that soon must set, All quenched in pitying dew.
Life hath its harvest moons, ; Its tasseled corn and purple weighted vine ; Its gathered shears of grain, the bleated
sign, Of plenteous ripening, bread, and pure, rich, wine, Full hearts for hardest tunes.
Life hath its hopes fulfilled: Its glad fruitions, its blest answered prayer, Sweeter for waiting long, whose holy'air, Indrawn to silent souls, breathes forth its rare Grand speech of joy distilled.
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/THS18821104.2.2
Bibliographic details
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Thames Star, Volume XIII, Issue 4320, 4 November 1882, Page 1
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159Select Poetry. Thames Star, Volume XIII, Issue 4320, 4 November 1882, Page 1
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