Smiles and Tears

"Art thou happy, little child,
On this clear bright summer's day —
In the garden sporting wild,
Art thou happy! tell me, pray."
"If I had that pretty thing,
That has flown to yonder tree,
I would laugh, and dance, and sing —
Oh! how happy I should be!"
Then I caught the butterfly,
Placed it in his hands securely —
Now, methought, his pretty eye
Never more will look demurely.
"Art thou happy, now V said I;
Tears were sparkling in his eye:
Lo! the butterfly was dead —
In his hands its life had sped!
"Art thou happy, maiden fair,
On this pleasant summer's day,
Culling flowerets so rare,
Art thou happy I tell me, pray."
"If my Henry were but here,
To enjoy the scene with me —
He whose love is so sincere —
Oh! how happy I should be!"
Soon I heard her lover's feet,
Sounding on the gravel lightly,
To his loving words so sweet,
Tender glances answer brightly!
"Art thou happy, now?" I said;
Down she hung her lovely head:
"Henry leaves for foreign skies" —
Tears were in the maiden's eyes.
"Art thou happy, mother mild,
On this balmy summer's day,
Gazing on thy cherub child —
Art thou happy? tell me, pray."
"If my baby-boy were well,"
Thus the mother spake to me,
"Gratitude my heart would swell —
Oh! how happy I should be!"
Then the cordial I supplied,
Soon the babe restored completely;
Cherub-faced and angel-eyed,
On his mother smiled he sweetly.
"Art thou happy, now?" I said;
"Would his father were not dead!" —
Thus she answered me with sighs,
Scalding tear-drops in her eyes.
"Art thou happy, aged man,
On this glorious summer's day,
With a cheek all pale and wan,
Art thou happy? tell me, pray."
"If I were but safe above,"
Spake the old man unto me,
"To enjoy my Saviour's love —
Oh! how happy I should be!"
Then the angel Death came down,
And he welcomed him with gladness,
On his brow so pale and wan,
Not a trace was seen of sadness:
"Art thou happy, now?" I cried;
"Yes!" he answered, as he died:
Tears of joy were in his eyes,
Dew-drops from the upper skies!