POETRY

Lake County Press, Issue 2790, 19 June 1919, Page 2

POETRY

THE PLEASURE SEEKER. She sought it in the sylvan shade, In glories of the dewy eve; In guileless trust the artless maid Thought she had joy that ne'er would leave; She listened to a lover's tale, But, ah, soon, soon his lovo was dead. Oh pity, draw thy kindly veil, For pleasure from her life has fled. She sought it in the gilded halls— The home of mirth and music sweet; With Cupid's cords she captured thralls. And made them worship at her feet; She drank in draughts of sweet applause, And fondly fed on flattery's food She wished no better world', because She thought this world supremely good. She reckoned not how stealthy Time Would lob fair beauty of her grace— How age around her form would climb,

And marr the fairness of her face. She thought for years her reign would last, And was tho gayest of the gay, Till critics said "her fame was past;" Then all her pleasure flow away. She sought it then, in city slum, Where pride and talent stranded lie. Where jiuman wrecks, all shattered come To hunt for pleasure e're they die. The tavern's glare, the motley crowd, Made her forget the days of yore, Before in folly's paths she trod, Or e'er had cause thus to deplore. Oh, peace, where is thy blest abode, That iov no change no death can kill— That blessedness which is bestowed On mortals when their hearts are still? Tis not, 'tis not, in oarthly things; In wealth or fame 'tis not secure; True happiness from goodness springs, And strong for ever shall endure. John McKean.