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THE HOUSE OF CLAY.
THE HOUSE OF CLAY.
HERE was a house, a house of clay, Wherein the inmate sat all day,
Merry and poor;
For Hope sat with her, heart to heart,
Fond and kind, fond and kind,
Vowing he never would depart,—
Till all at once he changed his mind:
"Sweetheart, good by!" He slipped away
And shut the door.
But Love came past, and, looking in,
With smile that pierced like sunbeam thin
Through wall, roof, floor,
Stood in the midst of that poor room,
Grand and fair, grand and fair,
Making a glory out of gloom:—
Till at the window mocked grim Care:
Love sighed; "All lose, and nothing win?"—
He shut the door.
With smile that pierced like sunbeam thin
Through wall, roof, floor,
Stood in the midst of that poor room,
Grand and fair, grand and fair,
Making a glory out of gloom:—
Till at the window mocked grim Care:
Love sighed; "All lose, and nothing win?"—
He shut the door.
Then o'er the close-barred house of clay
Kind clematis and woodbine gay
Crept more and more;
And bees hummed merrily outside,
Kind clematis and woodbine gay
Crept more and more;
And bees hummed merrily outside,
