Hidden Sorrows.
For some the river of life would seem
Free from the shallow, the reef, or bar,
As they gently glide down the silvery stream
With scarcely a ripple, a lurch, or jar;
But under the surface, calm and fair,
Lurk the hidden snags, and the secret care;
The waters are deepest where still, and clear,
And the sternest anguish forbids a tear.
For others, the pathway of life is strewn
With many a thorn, for each rose or bud;
And their journey o'er mountain, o'er moor, and dune,
Can be plainly tracked by footprints of blood;
But deeper still lies the hidden smart
Of some secret sorrow, which gnaws the heart,
And rankles under a surface clear;
For the sternest anguish forbids a tear.
But, when the journey's end we see,
At the ba...