Classic Poem

The joyful heart is slow to sleep,
Repose it does not crave;
But weary are the eyes that weep
By sick-bed or by grave.

I lay awake the livelong night,
By joy too much made glad;
But with the coming of the light
I found my heart more sad.

The wings of joy are light and fleet,
They pass and leave no trace;
Deep prints are marked by sorrow's feet
Upon the spirit's face.

But God can fill the hollows up
With undeparting peace,
And they who drain their sorrow's cup
Know pain at last will cease.

The joyful heart, so slow to sleep,
May find its morning night,—
The heavy eyes of those who weep
May never lose the light.