 | The poetical writings of Elizabeth Oakes Smith |  |
150
PRESAGES.
There are who from their cradle bear
The impress of a grief—
Deep, mystic eyes, and forehead fair,
And looks that ask relief;
The shadows of a coming doom,
Of sorrow and of strife.
When Fates conflicting round the loom,
Wove the sad web of life.
The impress of a grief—
Deep, mystic eyes, and forehead fair,
And looks that ask relief;
The shadows of a coming doom,
Of sorrow and of strife.
When Fates conflicting round the loom,
Wove the sad web of life.
And others come, the gladsome ones,
All shadowless and gay,
Like sweet surprise of April suns,
Or music gone astray;
Arrested, half in doubt we turn
To catch another sight,
So strangely rare it is to learn
A presage of delight.
All shadowless and gay,
Like sweet surprise of April suns,
Or music gone astray;
Arrested, half in doubt we turn
To catch another sight,
So strangely rare it is to learn
A presage of delight.
| The poetical writings of Elizabeth Oakes Smith | |