Whether bright spring,
Or in the shade of the day
Each his own aspires,
To hear life’s music playSome seek in solace,
What is lost upon the crowdSome to their own cherish each other,
Away from all of the rest
Finding this way they find themselves,
Free from distressBut unto some few reveals itself a way
Seeming almost unknown
Steeling one’s heart,
Though not quite yet aloneGuessing without this world,
Must lie more than mere material wealth
And keeping that same high standard,
Which one ought to hold for oneselfDiscovers in his rapture a sweet music playing
So fine is it’s tune,
That not even great mastery could achieve it
On hearing finds himself humbled,
That he has received itAnd looking back on his life and the world,
Discovers that his troubles were hardly trifle but a few,
But to the unchristened ear,
Such existence was all, in life, that he knewAnd awed as he feels,
Head held in hands as he cries
Not quite tears of sadness,
Nor yet tears of joy, saying -All of my life is but one grain of sand
And of that truly good,
These I count on one handAnd sometimes life appears as if the setting of the sun -
These few things are all that I’ve done -
And these few lines are all that I wrote -
Life’s music plays a symphony -
I just play a few notes.
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