THERE'S but the meagre crust, Love, There's but the measured cup; On scanty fare we breakfast, On scanty fare we sup. Yet be not thou discouraged, Nor falter on the way, Since Wealth is for a life, Love, And Want is for a day. Our robes are hodden gray, Love. Ah! would that thine were white, And shot with gleams of silver, And rich with golden light. Yet care not thou for raiment, But climb, as pilgrims may, Since Ease is for a life, Love, And Toil is for a day. Our shelter oft is rude, Love; We feel the chilling dew, And shiver in the darkness Which silent stars shine through. Yet shall we reach our palace, And there in gladness stay, Since Home is for a life, Love, And Travel for a day. The heart may sometimes ache, Love, The eyes grow dim with tears; Slow glide the hours of sorrow, Slow beats the pulse of fears. Yet patience with the evil, For, though the good delay, Still Joy is for a life, Love, And Pain is for a day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ARAB by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY SOMETIMES by THOMAS SAMUEL JONES JR. SONNET: 42 by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY IN AN ARTIST'S STUDIO by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI MODERN MANNERS by MARY (CUMBERLAND) ALCOCK TWELVE SONNETS: 11. FIRST, BATTLE; THEN, WOMAN by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |