POEMS.
71
Shall I reject kind Pleasure's smiles as snares,
Prolong with cruel art the embittered pain,
Neglect all friendly means to soothe my cares,
And "weep the more, because I weep in vain[1]?"—
Prolong with cruel art the embittered pain,
Neglect all friendly means to soothe my cares,
And "weep the more, because I weep in vain[1]?"—
No! while Disease conducts with slow sure pangs
Some pale and lingering Victim to the Tomb,
Or while some Mother o'er her Darling hangs,
Destined to fall in pride of youthful bloom,
Some pale and lingering Victim to the Tomb,
Or while some Mother o'er her Darling hangs,
Destined to fall in pride of youthful bloom,
Then Sorrow claim me thine, thine wholly!—Ne'er
Shall Mirth's unfeeling smile my cheek prophane:
Each look, each thought shall sympathetic share
The sacred sadness of the House of Pain.
Shall Mirth's unfeeling smile my cheek prophane:
Each look, each thought shall sympathetic share
The sacred sadness of the House of Pain.
But when the Sufferer's ear is sealed with dust,
Each struggle past, and closed the tragic tale,
I'll weep no moment longer, than I must,
And check those sorrows, which no more avail.
Each struggle past, and closed the tragic tale,
I'll weep no moment longer, than I must,
And check those sorrows, which no more avail.
