Evening journal., 1911-05-01
ThE VALE OF LIFE
By Daniel MOnagIe.

no oLllci lnIuu6u Tie Ndlo VI coh6s ]
Where all seems happy. all seems
gay.
That valley is enclosed by hills;
All enter by the same defile;
They see its groves and dancing rills
Extend for many and many a mile,
And many beauties do beguile,
And catch at once the wandering
eye,
But see how fresh and fair does smile
The road that on the left does lie.
That beauteous road. so fresh and
fair,
Is known by all as pleasures way;
See how they throng and gather there
With heart so light, so blithe and
gay,
And willing hands will not gainsay.
But pleased to have you to convey,
Not caring where the dangers lay,
Anticipating naught but Joy.
So down the perfumed path they go.
That bright and panoramic view;
The lilies blooming white as snow,
The roses and the violet blue,
And floral beds Of every hue,
Entice them further, further on,
With wild bids notes so strange and
new,
And music from the vale and lawn.
Lying all careless by the way
Some glutted by those pleasures lie,
But more press on in haste 10 see
What newer pleasures catch their
eye,
But see the clouds o'ercast the sky.
And rumbling loud the thunder
peals,
The flashing lightning from on high,
Death. horror and destruction deals.
In vain they try TO turn and fly,
The crowds behind press blindly on,
The ground is parched, the streamlets
dry,
The landscapes beauty faded. gone,
Pitfall and' traps and quicksands
For them around on every hand.
While from behind the crowds press
on,
And drive them on the treacherous
sand.
And some there we're who glad to free
Themselves from out that swirl and
Who seeming not to care or see
Deliberately jumped therein.
They looked the wrecks of vice and
sin,
Despair was pictured on their brow,
Remorse and sorrow seemed to pin
Their stamp upon each forehead
now.
Remorse that they had trod the way
Which led them to such bitter end,
And sorrow that they did not stay
Nor scorn the kind and loving
friend
Who tried their stubborn hearts to
bend
Nor tread that path from which
they knew
Whoever reached that journeys end
Returning we're indeed but few.
The path upon the right was steep,
Not many flowers there did grow:
It lay through chasms dark and deep.
Where rumbling, roaring waters
flow.
Yet brave, adventurous hearts did go
And scaled those peaks so steep and
high.
Those peaks where the eternal snow
Did glistening on their submits lie.
At times their path was strewn with
thorns.
Their flesh was mangled. bleeding.
torn,
But yet they hoped succeeding morns
Would bring them joy, though now
forlorn,
And so on wings of courage borne
With confidence they keep their way
And laughed misgivings into scorn;
Onward they pressed, light-hearted,
gay.
They from the last defle emerge,
And, 10, what wonders meet their
eye;
Instead of roar of boiling surge,
Celestial music fills the sky;
The sweetest flowers were blooming
nigh.
The fairest paths eye ever seen
Stretched where the landscape meets
the sky,
With many dells and knolls be-
tween.
A quiet breath DER all the scene,
Such as their hearts had never
known,
The balmy breath from the meadows
green,
The lilies that so brightly shope.
A voice of music said alone.
For you this place is made and
blest,
Then enter children, 'tis your own.
The valley Of eternal rest.
My friend, when out i'm life Won start
That dubious valley to explore.
Though difficult the path, take heart
Those who go left return no more
Though surging loud the waters roar
And yawning is each open cleft.
With courage climb the mountains
DER,
Take to the right, avoid the left.