 | Mina, a dramatic sketch : with Other Poems |  |
SONNET.
Born in convulsions, nursed in grief and pain,And doomed in childhood to endure the spite
Of hate long hoarded—earth had no delight
For me in all her ways of mirth—no strain
To soothe my heart; no charm to chain my sight;
No spell of pleasure and no hope of gain;
But all was bleak and dreary as the reign
Of scowling winter, robed in endless night;
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Its hopes, fears, follies, crimes—and I have been
The brother of affliction, and each scene
Of fate, though varied, still was miserable;
But I have learned to know myself and bow
Humbly to Him, who doth my sorrows know.
| Mina, a dramatic sketch : with Other Poems | |