A child was playing in a garden, a merry little child, Bounding with triumphant health, and full of happy fancies; His kite was floating in the sunshine,--but he tied the string to a twig And ran among the roses to catch a new-born butterfly; His horn-book lay upon a bank, but the pretty truant hid it, Buried up in gathered grass, and moss, and sweet wild-thyme; He launched a paper boat upon the fountain, then wayward turned aside, To twine some fragrant jessamines about the dripping marble: So, in various pastime shadowing the schemes of manhood, That curly-headed boy consumed the golden hours: And I blessed his glowing face, envying the merry little child, As he shouted with the ecstasy of being, clapping his hands for joyfulness: For I said, Surely, O Life, thy name is happiness and hope, Thy days are bright, thy flowers are sweet, and pleasure the condition of thy gift. A youth was walking in the moonlight, walking not alone, For a fair and gentle maid leant on his trembling arm: Their whispering was still of beauty, and the light of love was in their eyes, Their twin young hearts had not a thought unvowed to love and beauty; The stars and the sleeping world, and the guardian eye of God, The murmur of the distant waterfall, and nightingales warbling in the thicket, Sweet speech of years to come, and promises of fondest hope, And more, a present gladness in each other's trust, All these fed their souls with the hidden manna of affection, While their faces shone beatified in the radiance of reflected Eden: I gazed on that fond youth, and coveted his heart, Attuned to holiest symphonies, with music in its strings: For I said, Surely, O Life, thy name is love and beauty, Thy joys are full, thy looks most fair, thy feelings pure and sensitive. A man sat beside his merchandize, a careworn altered man, His waking hope, his nightly fear, were money, and its losses: Rarely was the laugh upon his cheek, except in bitter scorn For his foolishness of heart, and the lie of its romance, counting Love a treasure. His talk is of stern Reality, chilling unimaginative facts, The dull material accidents of this sensual body; Lucreless honour were contemptible, impoverished affection but a pauper's riches, Duty, struggling unrewarded, the bargain of a cheated fool: The market value of a fancy must be measured by the gain it bringeth, No man is fed or clothed by fame, or love, or duty:-- So toiled he day by day, that cold and joyless man, I gazed upon his haggard face, and sorrowed for the change: For I said, Surely, O Life, thy name is care and weariness, Thy soil is parched, thy winds are fierce, and the suns above thee hardening.