If so my fancy idly clings To notions far away, And longs to roam for common things All round her every day,
Right idle would the journey be To leave one's home so far, And see the moon I now can see And every little star.
And have they there a night and day, And common counted hours? And do they see so far away This very moon of ours?
I mark him climb above the trees With one small [comrade] star, And think me in my reveries-- He cannot shine so far.
The poets in the tales they tell And with their happy powers Have made lands where their fancies dwell Seem better lands than ours.
Why need I sigh far hills to see If grass is their array, While here the little paths go through The greenest every day?
Such fancies fill the restless mind, At once to cheat and cheer With thought and semblance undefined, Nowhere and everywhere.
When trouble haunts me, need I sigh? No, rather smile away despair; For those have been more sad than I, With burthens more than I could bear; Aye, gone rejoicing under care Where I had sunk in black despair.
When pain disturbs my peace and rest, Am I a hopeless grief to keep, When some have slept on torture's breast And smiled as in the sweetest sleep, Aye, peace on thorns, in faith forgiven, And pillowed on the hope of heaven?
Though low and poor and broken down, Am I to think myself distrest? No, rather laugh where others frown And think my being truly blest; For others I can daily see More worthy riches worse than me.
Aye, once a stranger blest the earth Who never caused a heart to mourn, Whose very voice gave sorrow mirth-- And how did earth his worth return? It spurned him from its lowliest lot, The meanest station owned him not;
An outcast thrown in sorrow's way, A fugitive that knew no sin, Yet in lone places forced to stray-- Men would not take the stranger in. Yet peace, though much himself he mourned, Was all to others he returned.
His presence was a peace to all, He bade the sorrowful rejoice. Pain turned to pleasure at his call, Health lived and issued from his voice. He healed the sick and sent abroad The dumb rejoicing in the Lord.
The blind met daylight in his eye, The joys of everlasting day; The sick found health in his reply; The cripple threw his crutch away. Yet he with troubles did remain And suffered poverty and pain.
