L. N. Kdenall,  “Life's Poetry and Prose”

God wrote in prose when He began creating; He first made man both kingly and sublime, And then He made a poem for man's mating And woman lived, a sweet, entrancing rhyme. And that is why the pages of life's story Are written both in poetry and prose; Some dull with pain; some shining as with glory, And why 'tis thus the Father only knows. Life cannot be, it seems, all warmth and laughter, We must encounter chilling winds and snows; A sweet, inspiring poem follows after A chapter of the most prosaic prose. Perhaps to know the beauties of the springtime We needs must see the winter come and go; Nor would we think the mountain crest sublime, But for the humble valley far below. The epics of the season, too, are written At times in prose and then in lilting lines; How summer by the hand of time was smitten Is told us by the grasses and the vines. There is no life by grief or discord saddened That does not have its touch of lyric time; A page is turned, the weary eyes are gladdened To see life's story rounding into rhyme. In many a cup the wormwood is not tasted; In many a rose the thorn is never found; But oftentimes a precious chance is wasted To harken to life's harmony of sound. Sometimes, somehow, perhaps, we shall know better How best to mitigate all earthly woes. When we have learned life's lesson to the letter There will not be a thorn beside the rose.