Happy is he who in life's field shall gain One fair, tall flower, strong-rooted, fully blown, From all the dreams his youth had fondly sown; One flower, to recompense his toil and pain, And triumph breathe above the stress and strain Of long endeavor. Shall the tree bemoan That all its eager blossoms have not grown To leafy heights, and sigh that life is vain? Rather rejoice, old tree, that many a bud Gladdened a little child's soft clasp, and died Contented there; that yet another part Lived but to give the downy nestlings food; And others, early fallen, crushed, yet bide Close round thy roots, enriching thine own heart. |