34
SELF-COMMUNION.
Shall, in the blue-refulgent sky,
The sun’s transcendant light,
Behold a purer, deeper glow
Than these uncertain gleams can show,
However fair or bright.
O weak of heart! why thus deplore
That Truth will Fancy’s dreams destroy?
Did I not tell thee, years before,[1]
Life was for labour, not for joy?
Cease, selfish spirit, to repine;
O’er thine own ills no longer grieve;
The sun’s transcendant light,
Behold a purer, deeper glow
Than these uncertain gleams can show,
However fair or bright.
O weak of heart! why thus deplore
That Truth will Fancy’s dreams destroy?
Did I not tell thee, years before,[1]
Life was for labour, not for joy?
Cease, selfish spirit, to repine;
O’er thine own ills no longer grieve;
- ↑ Alternative reading:
Did I not tell thee, long before.
