Life's Joys.

I have been pondering what our teachers call         The mystery of Pain; and lo! my thought         After it's half-blind reaching out has caught     This truth and held it fast. We may not fall         Beyond our mounting; stung by life's annoy,         Deeper we feel the mystery of Joy.     Sometimes they steal across us like a breath         Of Eastern perfume in a darkened room,         These joys of ours; we grope on through the gloom     Seeking some common thing, and from its sheath         Unloose, unknowing, some bewildering scent         Of spice-thronged memories of the Orient.     Sometimes they dart across our turbid sky         Like a quick flash after a heated day.         A moment, where the sombrous shadows lay     We see a glory. Though it passed us by         No earthly power can filch that dazzling glow         From memory's eye, that instant's shine and show.     Life is so full of joys. The alluring sea,         This morning clear and placid, may, ere night,         Toss like a petulant child, and when the light     Of a new morning dawns sweep grand and free         A mighty power. If fierce, or mild, or bright,         With every tide flows in a fresh delight.     I can remember well when first I knew         The fragrance of white clover. There I lay         On the warm July grass and heard the play     Of sun-browned insects, and the breezes blew         To my drowsed sense the scent the blossoms had;         The subtle sweetness stayed, and I was glad.     Nor passed the gladness. Though the years have gone         (A many years, Beloved, since that day,)         Whenever by the roadside or away     In radiant summer fields, wandering alone         Or with glad children, to my restless sight         Shows that pale head, comes back the old delight.     Oh! the dark water, and the filling sail!         The scudding like a sea-mew, with the hand         Firm on the tiller! See, the red-shored land     Receding, as we brave the hastening gale!         White gleam the wave-tops, and the breakers' roar         Sounds thunderingly on the far distant shore.     This mad hair flying in the breeze blows wild         Across my face. See, there, the gathering squall,         That dark line to the eastward, watch it crawl     Stealthily towards us o'er the snow-wreaths piled         Close on each other! Ah! what joy to be         Drunk with salt air, in battle with the sea!     So many joys, and yet I have but told         Of simple things, the joys of air and sea!         Not all these things are worth one hour with thee,     One moment, when thy daring arms enfold         My body, and all other, meaner joys,         Fade from me like a child's forgotten toys.     One thought is ever with me, glorying all         Life's common aims. Surely will dawn a day         Bright with an unknown rapture, when thy way     Will be my journey-road, and I can call         These joys our joys, for thou wilt walk with me         Down budding pathways to the abounding sea.