LIFE is a burden to every one's shoulder; None may escape from its troubles and care; Miss it in youth and 't will come when we're older, And fit us as close as the garments we wear. Sorrow comes into our home uninvited, Robbing our heart of its treasures of song; Lovers grow cold and our friendships are slighted, Yet somehow or other we worry along. Midst the sweet blossoms that smile on our faces Grow the rank weeds that would poison and blight; And e'en in the midst of earth's beautiful places There's always a something that isn't just right. Yet oft from the rock we may pick a gay flower, And drink from a spring in a desolate waste; They come to the heart as a heavenly dower, And nought is so sweet to the eye or the taste. Every-day toil is an every-day blessing, Though poverty's cottage and crust we may share; Weak is the back on which burdens are pressing, But stout is the heart which is strengthened by prayer. Somehow or other the pathway grows brighter Just when we mourned there was none to befriend; Hope in the heart makes the burden seem lighter, And somehow or other we get to the end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BUCOLIC COMEDY: THE FOX; FOR ANN PEARN by EDITH SITWELL VICTORY BELLS by GRACE HAZARD CONKLING THE BEGGAR'S HOLIDAY, FR. BEGGAR'S BUSH by JOHN FLETCHER AN HYMN IN HONOUR OF BEAUTY by EDMUND SPENSER TO THE LADY IN THE CHIMSETTE WITH BLACK BUTTONS by NATHANIEL PARKER WILLIS QUATRAIN: FROM EASTERN SOURCES: 3 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH DESCRIBES THE PLACE WHERE CYNTHIA IS SPORTING HERSELF by PHILIP AYRES |