110
THE OLD STORY.
She trusted him! Women were made to trust!
It is their instinct! Strange they never think
That idols crumble oft to veriest dust,
And joy's full cups break on the fountain's brink!
******
To-night, this winter night of frost and snow,
She sits alone, sad-eyed, with silver hair!
Her cheek has lost its roundness and its glow,
And all her features are deep-lined with care.
It is their instinct! Strange they never think
That idols crumble oft to veriest dust,
And joy's full cups break on the fountain's brink!
******
To-night, this winter night of frost and snow,
She sits alone, sad-eyed, with silver hair!
Her cheek has lost its roundness and its glow,
And all her features are deep-lined with care.
And he? Within a crowded city's mart
He has a home of splendor grand and cold.
A black-haired woman reigns in pride within,—
Her hair was like the sunshine's rippling gold.
He has a home of splendor grand and cold.
A black-haired woman reigns in pride within,—
Her hair was like the sunshine's rippling gold.
Well, life is life, and very brief at best;
We do not live, and leave grief's ways untrod!
Happy, if when we go to find our rest,
Our sorrows have not made us false to God!
We do not live, and leave grief's ways untrod!
Happy, if when we go to find our rest,
Our sorrows have not made us false to God!
