 | Poems (1857) |  |
84
I KNEW MY LOT WAS LABOR.
I knew my lot was labor,
I knew my joys were few;
But Monday morn was welcome
Whate'er the work to do!—
My heart was light and cheery;
The day sped swiftly o'er;
But now my work is dreary—
For Mary is no more!
I knew my joys were few;
But Monday morn was welcome
Whate'er the work to do!—
My heart was light and cheery;
The day sped swiftly o'er;
But now my work is dreary—
For Mary is no more!
I asked no gift from fortune,
Nor envied king nor peer;
For there were walks with Mary,
When Saturday drew near!—
But now the days drag slowly,
And labor seemeth sore;
For she who made life holy,
Sweet Mary is no more!
Nor envied king nor peer;
For there were walks with Mary,
When Saturday drew near!—
But now the days drag slowly,
And labor seemeth sore;
For she who made life holy,
Sweet Mary is no more!
The Sabbath is not Sabbath,
The hymns seem not the same;
And lonely in the churchyard
I read my Mary's name.
Ah, once the earth had gladness,
And work sped swiftly o'er;
But now all work is sadness,
For Mary is no more!
The hymns seem not the same;
And lonely in the churchyard
I read my Mary's name.
Ah, once the earth had gladness,
And work sped swiftly o'er;
But now all work is sadness,
For Mary is no more!
| Poems (1857) | |