Classic Poem

Oh, where is peace? I asked my heart — it echoed
Only the mournful question — " where is peace? "
Is there a spot among these earthly regions
Where yearnings of the soul and troubles cease?

I went to History and conned its pages,
And most of them were deeply dyed in blood;
I found but scenes succeeding scenes of contest
And strife and passion since the avenging flood.

I sent Reflection o'er the world's wide waters
And vainly sought an olive-leaf to find,
Whose tender green should tell of grief subsiding
And some high place of safety for the mind.

There is no peace — it is the prize which sages
Cannot attain with all their learned lore —
They waste the lamp of life till death approaches
And are at last no wiser than before.

There is no peace — 'tis not in wealth or splendor,
Success, dominion, revelry or pride;
Nor in thy laurels, gratified ambition,
Nor yet with happy love doth peace reside.

This sober truth is taught by stern Experience,
No one believes it but the ripe in years;
Youth doubts, and trusts that present clouds will vanish
And sees a rainbow through the mist of tears.

One after one our pleasures cease to lighten
The sombre path that in the distance lies;
As one star fades away from life's horizon,
We fondly hope a brighter star will rise,

Till age comes on: and then we learn the lesson
That peace, sweet peace is not the child of time;
Too gross the air we breathe, too dim our sunshine
For the fair native of a deathless clime.