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CONTENTMENT is the sweetest boon, that hangs upon life's joyous tree, Beneath its shade and fruit we rest, in peace, and look beyond life's sea. How oft we fail to understand, the language of the thunder's tones And shrink, while lightnings chase across the heavens, as echo moans. The flowers and the tender grass, the clover with its blossoms sweet, All radiate in unison, and echo back the message fleet. The door by which we see the life, assayed and nourished here below Is hinged upon the canopy of Heaven, with its starlit glow. The sea rolls on so still and vast, its deepest mysteries ne'er unlock, While Mother Earth may quake to tell, through gases, of her molten rock; And while we mount the steps called fame, our ladders seem of wood, and all Who step thereon, to dizzy heights, must take the rounds of truth, or fall. The firmament so passing strange by adamantine laws seems bound, And on its lap our lit-tie earth feebly compares with those around; But all the sages of our time, and all the seers that passed away Could not endow one bud with life, nor keep one flower from decay. And yet we homage court, and crave the codicils which gold will buy, And sidetrack to this little world the promised life for by-and-by, But sweet contentment with its charm, when purchased with the gold of truth, Endows us with true happiness, which leaves the beaming glow of youth. |
