Yet there seems a shadow, yes even there,
Where all is so peacefully grand and still,
No fair young face with its shining hair,
No voice of love with its musical thrill.
One reigneth alone in that mansion grand,
And his day of life has long past its noon,
The wanderer of many a foreign land,
Rests, calmly waiting Heaven's final boon.
There are lines on his brow of grief and care,
Writ with a quill from Time's feathered wing.
There are silver threads in the chesnut hair,
The blossoms white of a fair dawning spring.
Yet Victor Roy has a kindly word,
And a kindly smile for all he meets;
No cry of distress is by him unheard,
While many a blessing his pathway greets.
"Yes, that's right Jasper, draw the curtains close,
And make the fire burn bright;
God help the poor and suffering ones
Within this city to-night.
Did your wife send food to that sick girl in the market lane to-day?
Did you carry coals to the man whose limbs were crushed by the loaded
dray?
Well, that's all right, what is it you say? you wish that I did but know
The comfort I give to hearts that are weak, or erring or low.
Have you turned lecturer, Jasper? no; but it makes you sad,
To see me lonely and quiet when I'm making others glad.
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