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- FEW, save the poor, feel for the poor:
- The rich know not how hard
- It is to be of needful food
- And needful rest debarred.
- Their paths are paths of plenteousness,
- They sleep on silk and down;
- And never think how heavily
- The weary head lies down.
- They know not of the scanty meal,
- With small pale faces round;
- No fire upon the cold, damp hearth
- When snow is on the ground.
- They never by the window lean,
- And see the gay pass by;
- Then take their weary task again,
- But with a sadder eye.
- LIFE has dark secrets; and the hearts are few
- That treasure not some sorrow from the world--
- A sorrow silent, gloomy, and unknown,
- Yet colouring the future from the past.
- We see the eye subdued, the practised smile,
- The word well weighed before it pass the lip,
- And know not of the misery within:
- Yet there it works incessantly, and fears
- The time to come; for time is terrible,
- Avenging, and betraying.
- 'TIS a strange mystery, the power of words!
- Life is in them, and death. A word can send
- The crimson colour hurrying to the cheek.
- Hurrying with many meanings; or can turn
- The current cold and deadly to the heart.
- Anger and fear are in them; grief and joy
- Are on their sound; yet slight, impalpable:--
- A word is but a breath of passing air.
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