MY COMFORTER
Well hast thou spoken, and yet
not taught
A feeling strange or new;
Thou hast but roused a latent
thought,
A cloud-closed beam of sunshine
brought
To gleam in open view.
Deep down, concealed within
my soul,
That light lies hid from
men;
Yet glows unquenched--though
shadows roll,
Its gentle ray cannot control--
About the sullen den.
Was I not vexed, in these
gloomy ways
To walk alone so long?
Around me, wretches uttering
praise,
Or howling o'er their hopeless
days,
And each with Frenzy's tongue;-
A brotherhood of misery,
Their smiles as sad as sighs;
Whose madness daily maddened
me,
Distorting into agony
The bliss before my eyes!
So stood I, in Heaven's glorious
sun,
And in the glare of Hell;
My spirit drank a mingled
tone,
Of seraph's song, and demon's
moan;
What my soul bore, my soul
alone
Within itself may tell!
Like a soft, air above a
sea,
Tossed by the tempest's
stir;
A thaw-wind, melting quietly
The snow-drift on some wintry
lea;
No: what sweet thing
resembles thee,
My thoughtful Comforter?
And yet a little longer speak,
Calm this resentful mood;
And while the savage heart
grows meek,
For other token do not seek,
But let the tear upon my
cheek
Evince my gratitude! |
