 | Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights |  |
123
SONNET.
GRIEF.
“Sorrow is better than laughter; for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.”
—Bible.
—Bible.
As the uncertain twittering of the birds,
Striving with Winter, which has been so long,
Dies inarticulate—ending not in song—
So did my voice, with many plaintive words,
Strive, in the winter of my grief, to sing,
But died in silence—they could not be spoken—
Because, within my heart, there was no spring
Of joy to call them forth—my heart was broken!
For Disappointment's frost had withered up
Affection's flowers!—Youth's Garden now was bare!
I have drunk poison from Death's empty cup,
Whose bottom now contains the dregs of care,
Which mock my lips with bitterness, to think
That of Youth's wine there is no more to drink!
New York, May 23, 1841.
| Virginalia ; or, songs of my summer nights | |