CONTRASTS

The wind is roaring down the lake,

The clear, cold moon rides high,

The mountains, crystal to their crests,

Indent the starlit sky;

The wild sea beats my garden-wall,

And all its peace transforms;

Dear Heart, how different is the lake

When swept by Alpine storms!

My soul to-night is dark and sad

From proofs of hate displayed,

From envy and rapacity,

And kindness ill-repaid;

The baseness of humanity

Hath spoiled a cherished dream;

Dear Heart, how different is the lake

When Evil reigns supreme!

The gale hath blown itself to rest,

The sun turns all to gold,

Once more the crystal mountain-sides

A waveless plain enfold;

And some will laugh, and lightly say

The storm hath left no stain,

But in my park one perfect rose

Will never bloom again!