COULD SORROW KILL.
I
Could sorrow kill, you would not see me here,
But 'gainst my will,
I linger still,
With none my path to cheer.
And am I wrong to wish for a release,
To shun the throng,
And dance, and song,
And sigh for peace.
If wrong it be, then woe is me!
The crime's akin to misery.
II
“Be comforted,” you say with kind intent,
Nor would I shed
Tears for the dead,
The pure, the innocent.
But I am wrong in being thus subdued,
Whose love most strong,
Encouraged long,
Met base ingratitude!
If wrong it be, then woe is me!
The crime's akin to misery.
