A THOUGHT TOILER, faint and o'ercome by his labours,
And the manifold troubles by which he was girt,
Combined with the titters and sneers of his neighbours,
Lost heart, and thus vented the pangs of his heart:—

'I'm a-weary with care, I'm a-weary with care,
Surrounded with woes that no mortal can bear,
Whilst I gaze on the night of my ills and survey,
Not a star to direct my lorn soul on its way.

'I'm shorn of my strength, and the few are my years,
The winter of life on my aspect appears;
Ay, the feeling of death steals apace round my core,
Like the sea-waves around yon lone rock on the shore.'

So rang the wild wail, when a voice from the spheres,
Where dwell the good angels, awoke on his ears—
'Refrain from thy tears, from thy sorrows refrain,
The gloom that engirts thee shall vanish again.

'Tho' in shadows the car of thy destiny's driven,
And thy hopes are extinguished, thy bosom-chords riven,
Not, not in one battle for right hast thou striven
Unwitness'd by God and the angels of heaven.

'And could but thy eyes now be open'd as they
Will be opened, and not in a far distant day,
Thou would'st see for thy trials, a guerdon more bright
Than the jewels that garnish the mantle of night.

'For the lava of thought that has sparkled and burned,
In thy innermost soul's to a diadem turned
And every tear thou hast shed is a gem,
That enhances the worth of that rare diadem.

'And every sigh thou hast breathed to a tone
Far sweeter than music on waters has grown;
And that music will flow in thy new-opened ears,
With a might that shall lead thee to bless the past years.

'Ah, then shalt thou see not in vain hast thou wept;
Not in vain hast thou laboured whilst others have slept
Not in vain hast thou sorrowed whilst others entranced
With the pleasures that perish have giggled and danced.

'And every trouble and every burden,
And every pang thou hast felt and endured,
Shalt thou find,' cried the voice, 'has its own precious
guerdon!'
And the Toiler at this to his strength was restored.