Classic Poem

" THE world is old, the world is cold, "
She very coldly said,
" And all we prize beyond us lies
Till we lie with the dead.

" The world is old, the world is cold;
A thousand lives can prove
How failures cast us all at last
Into the worldly groove. "

A thousand lives are not my life,
Nor are they types of mine;
Instead of cold, the world is gold,
And dazzles with its shine.

She shook her head, she broke her thread,
And paused to count the stitches;
And still she told, the world was cold,
And colder all its riches.

And still I hold the world is gold,
And golden all its glory;
And still she sings of " fleeting things, "
That dismal, dreary story.

The daisies blow, the roses grow,
In garden, field, and wood,
And care is fleet, where youth is sweet,
And God is very good.

I still must weave, and still believe
My dreams will all come true;
For hope is bright, and sorrow light,
Where life is fresh and new.