I READ a song whose strain was high,
A dirge, so full of sob and cry
It made my soul sway with its sound;
And yet, whene'er I cast my eye
Out where the hills, with sunlight crowned,
Rose up against the purple sky,
I thought, why moan, and sing so sad,
When all the world was bright and glad:
And lo, the song gave no reply.

The swift years come, the swift years go;
The winter brings its drifting snow;
The spring its wealth of fragrant bloom;
And summer's golden grain-fields glow;
And autumn's store makes rich perfume:
While bright and fast the rivers flow,
And robins fill the wood with song,
And sorrow fades, and joy grows strong;
Sure bliss has wider realm than woe.

Ah, mother earth, so good, so great,
Why should we quarrel with our fate?
You hold us safely in your hand;
We can do nothing else but wait,
And see your beauty clothe the land;
And when you open wide the gate,
Beyond which lie the mystic days,
And upward tending, sunlit ways,
Then will we grasp the future state.

Swift as the meteor's lurid flight,
That through the distances of night
Flashes a moment, and is gone,
So sorrow comes and blasts delight,
But like the meteor goes on
And quick has passed beyond our sight:
And shining like a steadfast star,
Joy sends her gladsome light afar,
To make sad eyes grow strangely bright.

Like ghosts of dreams the dead years sweep
On through that vast, unfathomed deep,
Where bright stars sing their anthems grand,
Why should we for their sorrows weep?
Each one is but a grain of sand
In centuries that safely keep
All that the world has lost or won:
In some far land beyond the sun,
Ripen the harvests love will reap.

From skies with brilliant stars bestrown,
I hear the songs of joy, wind blown
Down through the boundless realms of space;
And vague, like some dim undertone,
Sounds the low voice of that sad race,
Storm-tossed about a barren zone,
Who shun the radiant opal sea,
And grope where the cold shadows be,
Cast out from ages that have flown.

Where brooding darkness, cold and vast,
Holds sorrow, sweeping in wild blast
Round gloomy planets, vexed with loss
Of light and love, and over-cast
By dense, black clouds that fret and toss,
As distant stars sail grandly past,
The dead years roll; there burning tears,
And hunger fierce, and looming fears.
Like giants gather grim and fast.

Earth, rich in regal years, and strong
With manhood, soars where great spheres throng
Heaven's spacious ways; and while it hears
Murmurs of battles fought with wrong,
Echoes with hope's triumphant cheers,
And swiftly swings its way along:
And far, where vast worlds hang remote,
In billowing waves doth outward float
The joyous gladness of its song.