













ith 336 Re LOWELL. 

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how; 

441 Kvery thing is happy now, 
Wy Every thing is upward striving ; 
i} ’Tis as easy now for the heart to be true, 
1] IF t As for grass to be green or skies to be blue,— 
| i} "Tis the natural way of living : 
| | it Who knows whither the clouds have fled 2 

nant In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake ; 


{i And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, 
The heart forgets it sorrow and ache ; 
The soul partakes the season’s youth, 

And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe 
Lie deep ‘neath a silence pure and smooth, 
Like burnt-out craters healed with snow. 


a omen all 

