<h2><SPAN name="page118"></SPAN><span class="pagenum"></span>LIFE</h2>
<p class="poetry">On a bleak, bald hill with a dull world
under,<br/>
The dreary world of the Commonplace,<br/>
I have stood when the whole world seemed a blunder<br/>
Of dotard Time, in an aimless race.<br/>
With worry about me and want before me—<br/>
Yet deep in my soul was a rapture spring<br/>
That made me cry to the grey sky o’er me:<br/>
‘Oh, I know this life is a goodly
thing!’</p>
<p class="poetry">I have given sweet years to a thankless duty<br/>
While cold and starving, though clothed and fed,<br/>
For a young heart’s hunger for joy and beauty<br/>
Is harder to bear than the need of bread.<br/>
I have watched the wane of a sodden season,<br/>
Which let hope wither, and made care thrive,<br/>
And through it all, without earthly reason,<br/>
I have thrilled with the glory of being alive.</p>
<p class="poetry"><SPAN name="page119"></SPAN><span class="pagenum">p.
119</span>And now I stand by the great sea’s splendour,<br/>
Where love and beauty feed heart and eye.<br/>
The brilliant light of the sun grows tender<br/>
As it slants to the shore of the by and by.<br/>
I prize each hour as a golden treasure—<br/>
A pearl Time drops from a broken string:<br/>
And all my ways are the ways of pleasure,<br/>
And I know this life is a goodly thing.</p>
<p class="poetry">And I know, too, that not in the seeing,<br/>
Or having, or doing the things we would,<br/>
Lies that deep rapture that comes from being<br/>
<i>At one with the Purpose which made all
good</i>.<br/>
And not from Pleasure the heart may borrow<br/>
That rare contentment for which we strive,<br/>
Unless through trouble, and want, and sorrow<br/>
It has thrilled with the glory of being alive.</p>
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