Eureka Reporter | 1904-07-29 | Page 4 | There's Not a Joy

there s not a woy there not a joy the world can give like that it takes away when the glow of early thought declines in feeling a dull decay not on youth s smooth cheek the blush alone which fades so fast but the tender bloom ot heart Is gone ere youth itself be past then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness are driven er the of guilt or ocean of excess the magnet ot their course Is gone or only points in vain the shore to which their shivered sail shall never stretch again then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down it cannot feel for other s woes it dare not dream its own that heavy chill has frozen the fountain of our tears and though the eyes may sparkle still Us where the ice appears though wit may flash from fluent lips and mirth distract the breast through midnight houis that yield no more their former hope of rest but as ivy leaves around the ruined turret wreath all green and wildly tresh without but worn and gray beneath oh could I 1 feel as I 1 ha ye felt or be what I 1 have been or weep as I 1 could ice have wept er many a vanished scene A springs in deserts round seem swett all brackish though they be so midst the withe jed waste of life those tears woul flow to me lorn byron