  Drop B eyond the beams of brightening dayA lonely miner, moving slow Along a darkly winding way, Is daily seen to go, Where shines no sun or cheerful ray To make those gloomy caverns gay. For there no glorious morning light Is burning in a cloudless sky And there no banners flaming bright, Are lifted heaven-high, But that lone miner, far from sight, Treads boundless realms of boundless night. There neither brook nor lovely lawn Allures the miner's weary eye, For, having caught one glimpse of dawn, With many an anxious sigh, Those precious lights are left in pawn To be by fainter hearts withdrawn. Nor tender leaf nor fragrant flower Dare penetrate that fearful gloom, Where, low beneath a crumbling tower, Or dark, resounding room, Yon miner, in some evil hour, Yet, while the day is speeding on, Far from those skies that shine so clear, Far from the glory of the sun And happy birds that cheer— Hark!—through those echoing caves, anon The hammer's merry monotone. There, far from every happy sound Of blithesome bird or cheerful song, In yonder solitudes profound, The miner, all day long, Hears his own music echo round Those deep-voiced caverns underground. There, in that gloom which doth affright Faint-hearted, sky-enamoured men, The miner, with his little light, Hews out a hollow den, And seems to find some keen delight Where others see but noisesome night. Thus many a heart, along life's way, Must labor where no cheerful sun Of golden hopes or pleasures gay, Shines till the day is done, For where the deepest shadows play The purest hearts are led astray. Yet some, unseen by careless Fate, Know naught of gloom or sorrow here. But happily, with hearts elate, They walk a charmed sphere, And lightly laugh, or lightly prate Of lonely souls left desolate. So are we miners, great and small, By sunny slope or lower gloom, And day by day we hear a call As from the distant tomb, But, when the evening shadows fall, The lights of home will gleam for all. |
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