The Best And The Worst Of It

By James Nack

When to the crowded halls of mirth
I turn, from lonely thoughts to fly,
And find the change but little worth,
Amid the throng alone on earth,
For very sorrow I could die.

But when that heavenly face I see
Whose loving looks to mine reply,
The world appears my own to be,
For she is all the world to me,
And I for very joy could die.

When youthful dreams, forever fled,
From memory claim the hopeless sigh;
When long lost friends like spectres tread,
The cold, the faithless and the dead!
I feel so wretched I could die.

But when those eyes, in which I trace
The beauty of the starlight sky,
Look up so fondly in my face,
All sweetness and confiding grace,
I feel so happy I could die.