A Passage in a Life. At morn, he was so happy ; and at night Heart-broken utterly—quite worn and grey. Upon the garden of his hopes a blight Had fall’n—a blight never to pass away. A few words turned his soul’s peace into strife ; A brief sad tale—a passage in a life— Done in an hour’s, told ina minute’s, space ; But every word cut keenly as a knife, Carving deep lines of suffering on his face, And scoring bitter memories in his heart. He was a strong man mail-clad ; one whose part From childhood upwards it had been to bear ; But the great God—great God, how good Thou art !— Knew where the weak spot was, and smote him there.