STAGES.
Reading edition
By BENJAMIN R. BULKELEY.
I.
Once life was joy, not joyous service done— Quick days of selfish rapture, broad, not deep; The world was like a picture, and the sun Rose for the gilding of a dreamy sleep.
II.
We woke; and life was labor; naught of glee Was left, for deepest-rooted toil remained; And as we delved no end was there to see, And suns but glimmered on the dross we gained.
III.
But now, or in the perfect time, we know The joy returns while labor yet abides; Life’s round and fair, and, delving deep below, We find the joy that early pleasure hides. —The Journal of Speculative Philosophy.
