Truths

I wear a rose in my hair,Because I feel like a weed;Who knows that the rose is thornyAnd makes my temples bleed?If one gets to his journey's end, what matter how galled the steed?

I gloss my face with laughter,Because I cannot be calm;When you listen to the organ,Do you hear the words of the psalm?If they give you poison to drink, 'tis better to call it balm.

If I sneer at youth's wild passion,Who fancies I break my heart?"Tis this world's righteous fashion,With a sneer to cover a smart.Better to give up living than not to play your part.

If I scatter gold like a goblin,My life may yet be poor.Does Love come in at the windowWhen Money stands at the door?I am what I seem to men. Need I be any more?

God sees from the high blue heaven,He sees the grape in the flower;He hears one's life-blood drippingThrough the maddest, merriest hour;He knows what sackcloth and ashes hide in the purple of power.

The broken wing of the swallowHe binds in the middle air;I shall be what I am in Paradise—So, heart, no more despair!Remember the blessed Jesus, and wipe his feet with thy hair.