IN HOURS OF GRIEF, WHEN EV'RY THOUGHT
RENEWS.
I
In hours of grief, when ev'ry thought renews
A host of treasur'd joys we're doom'd to lose,
Hope fades away, her soothing smiles are vain,
Time seems to feel the weight of Sorrow's chain.
Why does Time move so slow in mournful years?
His wings are heavy, they are wet with tears:
But in life's sunshine, when with fond delay
We wish to linger in the flow'ry way,
His rapid plumage wafts him on so fast,
That, ere we feel him present, Time is past.
II
In Anna's absence, when each thought is gloom,
Save one dear thought of meetings yet to come,
Life like a polar winter wears away,
In ceaseless night, without one sunny ray;
I feel becalm'd upon a waveless sea,
Far from the happy scenes belov'd by me.
But Oh! in Anna's presence, when at last
Our joys atone for countless sorrows past,
Swift fly the hours, and, ere the anxious heart
Can feel that we have met—'tis time to part.
