THE JOY UNTASTED. Ill 



heart ? Why look into the recesses of our own nature only 

 to learn that there are chambers tenantless and lone, through 

 which even the voice of joy must echo like a wail of sorrow ? 



Heart, weary Heart ! what means thy wild unrest ? 



Hast thou not tasted of earth's every pleasure ? 

 With all that mortals seek thy lot is blest ; 



Yet dost thou ever chant in mournful measure : 



" Something beyond !" 



Heart, weary Heart ! canst thou not find repose 

 In the sweet calm of friendship's pure devotion ? 



Amid the peace which sympathy bestows, 



Still dost thou murmur with repressed emotion, 



" Something beyond !" 



Heart, weary Heart ! too idly hast thou poured 



Thy music and thy perfume on the blast ; 

 Now, beggared in affection's treasured hoard, 



Thy cry is still, — thy saddest and thy last, — 



" Something beyond !" 



Heart, weary Heart ! oh ! cease thy wild unrest, — 



Earth cannot satisfy thy bitter yearning ; 

 Then onward, upward speed thy lonely quest, 



And hope to find, where Heaven's pure stars are burning, 



" Something beyond !" 



Ay, this is the reply ; — it is because we must look beyond 

 and above this world, that we are not permitted to find the 

 communion of heart, which would make earth another 



