Unhappy

"Unhappy?" No; why do you ask?Because my pen is foundTo trace in words of no light taskA sympathy profoundWith all that tends toward sadness?Is't thus you reason, friend,And think my heart knows not of gladness;And thus my life will end?Ah, then 'tis not given you here to seeThat underneath this veil,A heart of love beats full and freeAnd hath a happy taleTo tell, as well as that of sorrow.You do not know the signs;Take heed for often coming morrow,And learn the sun shinesWhere the storms have raged the fiercest,And the calm that fallsIs greater where an arrow piercestThe hush of Memory's halls.So if I write in mournful strain,Paradoxical I see,And hear the joy through waves of painOf Earth's humanity."Unhappy!" Not when He hath givenMe scope to soar aloftAnd commune with minds who've strivenAnd reached the goal so oft.