WHAT IS YOUR LIFE?


Why do we mourn? why do we sigh?
We who may to-morrow lie
With folded hands and death-sealed eye?

A brave and gallant heart I knew:
Like some young sturdy oak he grew
Nursed by the sun, refreshed by dew.

His hopes were bright and high their aim:
Above reproach or fear of shame
None ever lightly spoke his name.

He left our cottage blithe and gay,
And as he left we heard him say,
"I will return at close of day."

We watched him as he passed along,
He was so manly, brave and strong,
Oh, was the pride we cherished wrong?

We thought of him as one designed
To bless and elevate mankind,--
And it was well that we were blind!

We did not see the gathering frown,--
But long before the sun went down,