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Oh there are those who love the pensive song,
To whom all sounds of Mirth are dissonant!
There are, who at this hour
Will love to contemplate!
To whom all sounds of Mirth are dissonant!
There are, who at this hour
Will love to contemplate!
For hopeless Sorrow hails the lapse of Time,
Rejoicing when the fading orb of day
Is sunk again in night,
That one day more is gone.
Rejoicing when the fading orb of day
Is sunk again in night,
That one day more is gone.
And he who bear's Affliction's heavy load
With patient piety, well pleas'd he knows
The World a pilgrimage,
The Grave the inn of rest.
With patient piety, well pleas'd he knows
The World a pilgrimage,
The Grave the inn of rest.
