CHARLES MACKAY, LL.D. A TRAVELLER through a dusty road Strewed acorns on the lea; And one took root, and sprouted up, Love sought its shade at evening time, And Age was pleased, in heats of noon, The dormouse loved its dangling twigs; It stood a glory in its place, A little spring had lost its way He thought not of the deed he did, 2 There's much in this life, after all. He passed again, and lo! the well, By summers never dried, Had cooled ten thousand parching tongues, A dreamer dropped a random thought, The thought was small-its issue great; A watch-fire on the hill; It shed its radiance far adown, And cheers the valley still! A nameless man, amid a crowd It raised a brother from the dust, O germ! O fount! O word of love! THERE'S MUCH IN THIS LIFE, AFTER ALL. J. BURBIDGE. HERE'S much in this life, after all, That's pleasant, if people would take it; On some of us trouble must fall, But sure I am, most of us make it. Let us look for the ups and the downs, And if we are met by the frowns, Believe that a smile is behind them. |