Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/302

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'Tis well for thee! thou art not made Struggle like this to share; Ill might that gentle, loving heart The world's cold conflict bear; Where selfish interest, falsehood, strife, Strain through their gladiatorial life; Save that the false ones wear Seeming and softness and a smile, As if guilt were effaced by guile.

I dare not speak to thee of fame, That madness of the soul, Which flings its life upon one cast, To reach its desperate goal. Still the wings destined for the sky Will long their upward flight to try,