 | Flower o' the thorn
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MELIUS SIC.
UPON thee, like a curse, my soul, it weighs
That thou through life the world must'st walk alone
And never reaped'st that which thou hast sown,
Nor mightest win the loved one of thy lays
For solace of thy solitary days.
Yet comfort thee! How many hast thou known,
Who, snatching at success, their fields o'ergrown
With tares have found and harvested amaze!
How many a Jacob hast thou seen, whose life,
With blear-eyed Leah burdened, its dull streams
Through devious mazes drags of stress and strife,
Who, in mean misery wearing heart and brain,
His ten times seven years' service spends in vain
Nor ever clips the Rachel of his dreams!
| Flower o' the thorn
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