Poems (Truesdell)/Presentiments

by Helen Truesdell

PRESENTIMENTS.

Oh! why this utter loneliness of heart!
These deep, wild throbbings, and these tears that start—
This heavy sorrow spurning all control,
And painful thoughts which crowd upon the soul?

And why these shadows, which around me gleam,
Like the wild phantoms of a midnight dream,
With words half spoken, thoughts but half expressed,
Robbing my days of peace, my nights of rest?