 | "Until the Day Break," |  |
262
SORROW.
Led onward by the joyous ray,
I thought not of the coming sorrow;
Amid the brightness of to-day
I dreamed not of the darker morrow.
I thought not of the coming sorrow;
Amid the brightness of to-day
I dreamed not of the darker morrow.
It was not till the tempest came
That I my bliss began to measure;
When burst the wasting thunder-flame,
'Twas then I knew my priceless treasure.
That I my bliss began to measure;
When burst the wasting thunder-flame,
'Twas then I knew my priceless treasure.
It smote into life's inmost core,
Each fibre of my being tearing;
Leaf-like, it tossed me o'er and o'er,
Then laid me down to die despairing.
Each fibre of my being tearing;
263
Then laid me down to die despairing.
It turned my garden to a waste;
Each stem was crushed, each flower was broken,
Its fragments scattered to the blast,
Its beauty gone without one token.
Each stem was crushed, each flower was broken,
Its fragments scattered to the blast,
Its beauty gone without one token.
| "Until the Day Break," | |