 | Benoni |  |
238
COMFORT.
Thou wakest in the darkness, O poor soul,
Even in thy sleep,—and moanest with the moan
Of doves beside their windows, when they grieve
To be alone:
Even in thy sleep,—and moanest with the moan
Of doves beside their windows, when they grieve
To be alone:
I know thee that thou mournest—I perceive
Thou art in sorrow, even unto death;
My heart doth hear thy great and bitter cry,
And wondereth.
Thou art in sorrow, even unto death;
My heart doth hear thy great and bitter cry,
And wondereth.
“Depart, O stranger! I am full of tears—
The music ceaseth from my stricken hand;
How shall I sing my sweet memorial-song
In a strange land?
The music ceaseth from my stricken hand;
How shall I sing my sweet memorial-song
In a strange land?
“How shall I walk these cloister'd corridors,
Chilling my naked feet against the stone?
Let me alone, that I may die in peace—
Let me alone!”
Chilling my naked feet against the stone?
Let me alone, that I may die in peace—
Let me alone!”
239
O thou afflicted, which art far from rest,
Toss'd with strong storms, and comforted in vain,
Doest thou well to gather to thy heart
So much of pain?
Toss'd with strong storms, and comforted in vain,
Doest thou well to gather to thy heart
So much of pain?
Thee doth the land of shadows evermore
Possess? Nor one victorious minister
Snatch from the deep black waters of the proud?
Dost thou not err?
Possess? Nor one victorious minister
Snatch from the deep black waters of the proud?
Dost thou not err?
Lift up thine eyes, and look unto the hills,
Whence all sweet airs flow down upon the sea;
And hearken thither for a voice that sings
‘Come unto me!’
Whence all sweet airs flow down upon the sea;
And hearken thither for a voice that sings
‘Come unto me!’
“It is enough—I will arise and go:
Blessed be thou that spakest such a word,
Rocking thyself upon the wavy thorn,
Most loving bird!
Blessed be thou that spakest such a word,
Rocking thyself upon the wavy thorn,
Most loving bird!
“Blessed be He that all before the time
Thrones our fleet hearts within the far-off bourne,
And breatheth balsams on the throbbing eyes
Of them that mourn!”
Thrones our fleet hearts within the far-off bourne,
And breatheth balsams on the throbbing eyes
Of them that mourn!”
| Benoni | |