Page:Ethel Churchill Fragments III.pdf/26



Life is made up of vanities—so small, So mean, the common history of the day,— That mockery seems the sole philosophy. Then some stern truth starts up—cold, sudden, strange; And we are taught what life is by despair:— The toys, the trifles, and the petty cares, Melt into nothingness—we know their worth; The heart avenges every careless thought, And makes us feel that fate is terrible.