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The New Monthly Magazine, Volume 25, Pages 174-175
SADNESS AND MIRTH.
"Nay, these wild fits of uncurb'd laughter
Athwart the gloomy tenor of your mind
As it has lower'd of late, so keenly cast,
Unsuited seem and strange."
"O nothing strange!
Didst thou ne'er see the swallow's veering breast
Winging the air beneath some murky cloud
In the sunn'd glimpses of a troubled day,
Shiver in silvery brightness?
Or boatman's oar, as vivid lightning flash
In the faint gleam, that like a spirit's path
Tracks the still waters of some sullen lake?
O gentle friend!
Chide not her mirth, who was sad yesterday,
And may be so to-morrow!"Joanna Baillie.
Ye met at the stately feasts of old,
When the bright wine foam'd in sculptured gold,
