BUSH BALLADS AND RHYMES 



Though we stumble still, walking blindly, 

 Our paths shall be made all straight ; 



We are weak, but the heavens are kindly, 

 The skies are compassionate." 



Is the clime of the old land younger. 



Where the young dreams longer are nursed ? 

 With the old insatiable hunger, 



With the old unquenchable thirst. 

 Are you longing, as in the old years 



We have longed so often in vain ; 

 Fellow-toilers still, fellow-soldiers, 



Though the seas have sundered us twain ? 



But the young dreams surely have faded, 



Youngdreams — old dreams of young days — 

 Shall the new dream vex us as they did ? 



Or as things worth censure or praise ? 

 Real toil is ours, real trouble, 



Dim dreams of pleasure and pride ; 

 Let the dreams disperse like a bubble, 



So the toil like a dream subside. 



Vain toil ! men better and braver 



Rose early and rested late, 



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