The smile that gilds a friendly face Shall never meet his eye; Songs, footsteps, laughter, tears, give place To dreary vacancy. Silence and darkness, brethren twain For ever at his side, Still hold him in their double chain Inexorably tied. Yet love is stronger still, and she Even hither wins her way, And soothes the long captivity Beneath that iron sway. Such tenderness, long years ago, The nymphs of ocean led To stern Prometheus stretched in woe Upon his stony bed. Or in the shape of insect, flower, Or bird has helped to cheer, In later times, full many an hour Of bondage, sad and drear. But what can comfort, like the heart That sorrow's self has known; Since that has learnt the healing art From sufferings of its own. And casting selfish grief away Forgets its own distress In sorrows heavier still, that prey On some more comfortless. This she has learnt--the secret this Of her calm life below; This gives those lips that sober bliss And smoothes that peaceful brow. Yet more; the love of human kind, How pure soe'er it be, Can never fill the heart, designed To grasp infinity. True, when the night of grief is dark It gladdens us to ken The distant cottage fires, and mark The peaceful homes of men. But such as upward lift their eye Will see a worthier sight, The myriad stars, that in the sky Seem homes for angels bright. Thus guided they pursue their way Thro' loneliest heath and dell, Till on their work of mercy, they Come where their brethren dwell. And such as she no earthly glow Would e'er suffice for them, Shine on her, 'mid these dwellings low, Thou Star of Bethlehem!