 | Illustrated poems by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney |  |
367
THE WISH OF THE WEARY WOMAN.
A form there was, still spared by time
Till the slow century fill'd its prime;
Stretch'd on its bed, with half-closed eye
It mark'd uncertain shades flit by;
Nor scarce the varied world of sound
To the seal'd ear admittance found;
While the worn brow, in wrinkles dark,
Seem'd like the gnarl'd oak's roughen'd bark.
Till the slow century fill'd its prime;
Stretch'd on its bed, with half-closed eye
It mark'd uncertain shades flit by;
Nor scarce the varied world of sound
To the seal'd ear admittance found;
While the worn brow, in wrinkles dark,
Seem'd like the gnarl'd oak's roughen'd bark.
Oh! e'er did youthful beauty deck
Those wither'd limbs, yon living wreck?
Did blushes o'er that leathern cheek
The warmth of wild emotion speak?
Did rosy health that lip bedew,
And kneeling love for favour sue?
Alas! alas! for him who bears
A hundred years earth's load of cares.
Those wither'd limbs, yon living wreck?
Did blushes o'er that leathern cheek
The warmth of wild emotion speak?
Did rosy health that lip bedew,
And kneeling love for favour sue?
Alas! alas! for him who bears
A hundred years earth's load of cares.
| Illustrated poems by Mrs. L. H. Sigourney | |