a comparison.
The lilies droop, and my room is chill,
Though 'tis Easter, not Christmastide:
But I see my neighbor draw his blind,
For the sun, on "the other side."
Sweet hopes of love, and of toil's reward,
Have drooped with the flowers, and died:
I wonder if there is something yet
To be said on "the other side."
And life drags on like a winter night,
Black and cold, without star to guide;
Perchance we must wait to understand
Till we get to "the other side."