THE PRICE OF JOY

By Edgar Albert Guest

You do n't begrudge the labor when the roses start to bloom;

You do n't recall the dreary days that won you their perfume;

You do n't recall a single care

You spent upon the garden there;

And all the toil

Of tilling soil

Is quite forgot the day the first

Pink rosebuds into beauty burst.

You do n't begrudge the trials grim when joy has come to you;

You do n't recall the dreary days when all your skies are blue;

And though you've trod a weary mile

The ache of it was all worth while;

And all the stings

And bitter flings

Are wiped away upon the day

Success comes dancing down the way.