The Poor

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.

L.E.L.

Secrets

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.

L.E.L.

The Power of Words

'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.

L.E.L.