THE PROBLEM OF LIFE.
I WALKthrough the streets, I look up at the sky, I know no more than a babe at the breast ; I tremble and thrill with a vague unrest To get at the heurt of life's mystery. What does it avail that my thoughts go out Through the trackless wastes of a stargein'd space If they bring nothing back to my dwelling place But figments of error and figments of doubt ! How do I know that the vanished and dead Have builded them homes on that calm azure sea ? What w the faith of another to me ? Yet, how can I live, if I live but by bread? Oh ! not for myself these hopes and thotc fears, I think of the lives that went out long ago ; I think of the graves that are under the snow, " And recompense seek for tho "value of tows." The lips that have kissed, and the hearts that have bled For other torn hearts. And they who made rhymes, And all the great souls that ever rung chimes Through the loves of the race— they have died. Are they dead ? ThU body, so intricate? How do we know That the fair human flower matured by the earthImpregnate by love— may not yield the birth Of a soul through tho pangs of its infinite •woe? —The Woman's World.
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Waikato Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2152, 24 April 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)
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226THE PROBLEM OF LIFE. Waikato Times, Volume XXVI, Issue 2152, 24 April 1886, Page 1 (Supplement)
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