This page has been validated.
TO LIFE
O life, mysterious! looking down
On me, with pregnant brows that frown,
Lock’d lips that smile:
I ask not what is meted me,
The issues of my destiny
If proud or vile;
Sorrow, or joy, my course control—
What matter? so thou grant my soul
Sure sight and keen;
That she may throughly penetrate
Each curse, each blessing; soon or late
Grasp all they mean!
80
