Poem by Frederick Goddard Tuckerman

First Series. 27. So to the mind long brooding but on it

So to the mind long brooding but on it
A haunting theme for anger, joy, or tears,
With ardent eyes, not what we think appears;
But hunted home, behold! its opposite.
Worn sorrow breaking in disastrous mirth,
And wild tears wept of laughter, like the drops
Shook by the trampling thunder to the earth;
And each seems either, or but a counterfeit
Of that it would dissemble: hopes are fears
And love is woe: nor here the discord stops;
But through all human life runs the account,
Born into pain and ending bitterly--
Yet sweet perchance, betweentime, like a fount
That rises salt and freshens to the sea.

1. First Series. 7. Dank fens of cedar, hemlock branches gray
2. First Series. 6. Not sometimes, but to him that heeds the whole
3. Second Series. 7. His heart was in his garden; but his brain
4. Third Series. 4. Thin little leaves of wood fern, ribbed and toothed
5. First Series. 8. As when down some broad river dropping, we

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