What is life? young Reason said;

           I’d like to know of what ’tis made,

What it is and what it means,

           If ’tis really what it seems.

 

If thou wilt know, the heart replied,

           I’ll direct thee to a guide;

Ask yon sage, who sits alone,

           Musing on that mossy stone.

 

Life’s a compound of various things–

           Joys and sorrows, love and rings,

Friendships deep, affection’s kiss,

           Empyreal views, ideal bliss;

The din of war, heart rendering moans,

           Orphan’s tears and widow’s groans;

Honest hearts and artful wiles,

           Broken hearts, deceitful smiles:

These passions all, the sage replied,

           Sail o’er life’s promiscuous tide.

 

And when life is young and sweet,

           Friendship’s smile and lovers meet,

Hearts are rife and untried joy,

           Strong in hopes none can destroy,

Lingering in Pleasures bowers,

           Culling all life’s choicest flowers;

No darkening shadow casts a shade

           O’er a life of brightness made;

Then life is sweet– but even then

           We’d scarcely wish it back again.

 

But when life’s like a passing dream,

           A bubble dancing o’er the stream,

It soon must burst as it has done,

           And we must go where all have gone,

When the hopes are thoughts unfurl’d,

           From their pure bright throne are hurl’d

When life’s journey’s nearly o’er

           And we can sing and dance no more;

When we see that all is vain,

        Who would wish it back again!

 

Thou sayest true, replied the heart,

        But thou has mentioned only part;

Many things thou hast forgot,

        And hope is sweet, destroy it not;

Hope is sweet, and we’ll hope on

        For a happier world beyond,

Where the wearied spirits smile,

        And ’twill last a longer while:

In a better world than this,

        Where ‘tis lasting happiness;

Where sin nor sorrow none shall see,

        But love- and to eternity.

 

Reason said, it all is true;

        The heart is right sir,–so are you,

But in Wisdoms court it must be tried;

        Let Wisdom right and just decide,

And by it’s judgement we’ll abide.

 

My verdict is this, then, Wisdom said,

        That life of many things is made.

Life and all its blessing prove

        Our creator’s holy love;

He made the world of many parts,

        And peopled it with angel hearts,

And every other thing he sends

        It is for wise and holy ends;

Some are blessings in disguise,

        Discovered only by the wise;

Sorrow and sadness only brings

        Our hearts to high and holy things.

If life would really be enjoyed,

        It must be moderately employed;

If  ’tis followed to excess,

        Every pleasure pleases less.

Rest, then, with little and content,

        Perform the part for which we’re sent.