I am so happy all the glad day long
That each new morning brings another song;
And each new problem which I dare assay
Is but a step upon ascension's way.
No good is ever lost; no truth destroyed;
No pure desire by failure is alloyed;
But as the moth forsakes its chrysalis
And soars up eagerly to realms of bliss,
With ne'er a backward look for what is lost,
Nor e'en a sigh, counting how great the cost,
So have I seen the gradual giving way
Of things and thoughts and circumstances,—clay
Which did but blind my inner, holier sight,
Mere hindrances upon my upward flight.
