A PRETTIER BOOK.
"He has a prettier book than this,"
With many a sob between, he said;
Then left untouched the night's last kiss,
And, sweet with sorrow, went to bed.
With many a sob between, he said;
Then left untouched the night's last kiss,
And, sweet with sorrow, went to bed.
A prettier book his brother had—
Yet wonder-pictures were in each.
The different colours made him sad:
The equal value—could I teach?
Yet wonder-pictures were in each.
The different colours made him sad:
The equal value—could I teach?
Ah, who is wiser? . . . Here we sit,
Around the world's great hearth, and look,
While Life's fire-shadows flash and flit,
Each wistful in another's book.
Around the world's great hearth, and look,
While Life's fire-shadows flash and flit,
Each wistful in another's book.
I see, through fierce and feverish tears,
Only a darkened hut in mine;
Yet in my brother's book appears
A palace where the torches shine.
Only a darkened hut in mine;
Yet in my brother's book appears
A palace where the torches shine.
