Charles Mackay (1814 – 1889)
Scottish poet, journalist, and song writer.
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Cleon hath a million acres,— ne’er a one have I;
Cleon dwelleth in a palace, — in a cottage I.
The king can drink the best of wine —
So can I;
And has enough when he would dine —
So have I;
And can not order rain or shine —
Nor can I.
Then where’s the difference — let me see —
Betwixt my lord the king and me?
Some love to roam o’er the dark sea’s foam,
Where the shrill winds whistle free.
Men, it has been well said, think in herds; it will be seen that they go mad in herds, while they only recover their senses slowly, and one by one.
But the sunshine aye shall light the sky,
As round and round we run;
And the truth shall ever come uppermost,
And justice shall be done.
Aid the dawning, tongue and pen;
Aid it, hopes of honest men!
There’s a good time coming, boys!
A good time coming.
We may not live to see the day,
But earth shall glisten in the ray
Of the good time coming.
Cannon-balls may aid the truth
But thought’s a weapon stronger;
We’ll win our battles by its aid,
Wait a little longer.
Every age has its peculiar folly: Some scheme, project, or fantasy into which it plunges, spurred on by the love of gain, the necessity of excitement, or the force of imitation.
The smallest effort is not lost,
Each wavelet on the ocean tost
Aids in the ebb-tide or the flow;
Each rain-drop makes some floweret blow;
Each struggle lessens human woe.
He who walks through a great city to find subjects for weeping, may, God knows, find plenty at every corner to wring his heart; but let such a man walk on his course, and enjoy his grief alone — we are not of those who would accompany him. The miseries of us poor earthdwellers gain no alleviation from the sympathy of those who merely hunt them out to be pathetic over them. The weeping philosopher too often impairs his eyesight by his woe, and becomes unable from his tears to see the remedies for the evils which he deplores. Thus it will often be found that the man of no tears is the truest philanthropist, as he is the best physician who wears a cheerful face, even in the worst of cases.
"What dost thou see, lone watcher on the tower
Is the day breaking? comes the wish'd-for hour?
Tell us the signs, and stretch abroad thy hand
If the bright morning dawns upon the land."
Old Tubal Cain was a man of might
In the days when earth was young.
If happy I and wretched he,
Perhaps the king would change with me.
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