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Half my life is full of sorrow, Half of joy, still fresh and new

Adelaide Anne Procter

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It seemed the harmonious echo from our discordant life.
ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER

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One of these lives is a fancy, But the other one is true.
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Do no cheat thy Heart and tell her, ‘Grief will pass away.’
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Dreams grow holy put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming,
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I know too well the poison and the sting of things too sweet.
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Be strong to hope, O Heart! Though day is bright,
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We always may be what we might have been.
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Do not look at life’s long sorrow; see how small each moment’s pain.
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No star is lost once we have seen
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Seated one day at the organ
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But still our place is kept, and it will wait, Ready for us to fill it, soon or late.
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But where each flows on unmingling, both are fruitless and in vain.
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Take them readily when given, Ready, too, to let them go.
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No star is ever lost we once have seen, We always may be what we might have been.
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I was weary and ill at ease, and my fingers wandered idly over the noisy keys.
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Ease Finger Key Over Wandered Weary
The stars can only shine In the dark night.
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