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Updated: June 17, 2025
"And the golden squirrel sprang at his behest, Nestled to his breast, first to join the quest. But Great Râm's grave eyes grew tender, Smiled upon the warrior slender, Braver than the rest! "'Nay! thou art too pretty! fearless little heart, Thou should'st have no part in Strife's bitter art; Live to show man, worn and weary, One blythe soul for ever cheery, Free from sorrow's smart.
And yet his mantle was of blue, And tinged with sorrow's violet hue; For fair Guhala, Moorish maid, Her spell upon his heart had laid; And thus his cape of saffron bare The color emblem of despair; On turban and on tassel lie The tints that yield an August sky; For anxious love was in his mind; And anxious love is ever blind.
Perdita blesses every guest at the shearing with a handful of blossom; but this gift is not to be asked of her whose best wish to her friends is ``grace and remembrance. The fair Ophelia, rather: nay, for as a nursling she hugs her grief, and for her the memory of the past is a ``sorrow's crown of sorrow. What flowers are these her pale hand offers? ``There's pansies, that's for thoughts! For me rather, O dear Ophelia, the white poppy of forgetfulness.
Pandora's box had not yet emptied itself of all its plagues. Our sorrow's crown of sorrow was yet to come. It is here; our humiliation is accomplished, our agony is complete.
Then she walked out of the death-chamber, erect, still the Queen, wearing "sorrow's crown of sorrow," and went to her chamber, and shut herself in her soul alone with God, her heart alone for evermore. Ah, we may not doubt that this royal being, in whose veins beats the blood of a long, long race of Kings, was brought low enough then, to her knees, to her face,
A flush of pleasure stole over the sallow face of the woman as she gazed upon the brightness of Joy's countenance; but the look quickly faded at the sight of Sorrow's worn and weary features. "My sister must tarry here," said Joy, as she rose to leave. "Here! With me? Why! I can scarcely live now. What can I do with her added to my troubles?" "It is thus decreed," answered Joy.
Full slow to part with her best gifts is Fate: The choicest fruitage comes not with the spring, But still for summer's mellowing touch must wait, For storms and tears that seasoned excellence bring; And Love doth fix his joyfullest estate In hearts that have been hushed 'neath Sorrow's brooding wing. Youth sues to Fame: she coldly answers, "Toil!"
The lines were in Laura's writing, corrected, here and there, in Guy's hand. Two loving hearts may sever, Yet love shall fail them never. Love brightest beams in sorrow's night, Love is of life the light. Two loving hearts may sever, Yet hope shall fail them never. Hope is a star in sorrow's night, Forget-me-not of light. Two loving hearts may sever, Yet faith may fail them never.
M'Coul," said they, "by pitching your tent upon the top of Knockmany, where you never are without a breeze, day or night, winter or summer, and where you're often forced to take your nightcap without either going to bed or turning up your little finger; ay, an' where, besides this, there's the sorrow's own want of water?"
Chloe sent its mother out to take the air, and told her it was no use for her to trouble her head about the baby, because it was a thing she knew nothing about; in fact "Miss Fannie" never was allowed to peep into its cradle without Chloe's express permission. But the time was coming when Sorrow's dark shadow should cross the happy threshold. Who comforted poor Fannie then?
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