 | Poems |  |
173
RESIGNATION.
Yes, yes, I will take comfort,
I will forbear to sigh,
I'll check my sad tears, since I see
A tear in every eye.
Though hopelessly I languish,
I do not mourn alone,
In every heart there's anguish,
As deep as in my own!
I will forbear to sigh,
I'll check my sad tears, since I see
A tear in every eye.
Though hopelessly I languish,
I do not mourn alone,
In every heart there's anguish,
As deep as in my own!
Still, in my love's young morning
To suffer such a blight;—
Ere joy was scarcely dawning,
To see it set in night!
All life's sweet hopes destroying,
Could heavier woe be mine?
(Each bliss of earth enjoying!)
Yet why should I repine!
To suffer such a blight;—
Ere joy was scarcely dawning,
To see it set in night!
All life's sweet hopes destroying,
Could heavier woe be mine?
(Each bliss of earth enjoying!)
Yet why should I repine!
174
When Macedonia's Hero
Saw death approaching near,
He breath'd no idle murmur,
He shed no fruitless tear;
“Farewell!” he sigh'd, “ye living,
Youth's work must finish'd be,
Ah! that spring's plant should perish
Like autumn's ripen'd tree.”
Saw death approaching near,
He breath'd no idle murmur,
He shed no fruitless tear;
“Farewell!” he sigh'd, “ye living,
Youth's work must finish'd be,
Ah! that spring's plant should perish
Like autumn's ripen'd tree.”
He wrote unto his mother,
And these the words she read,—
“Your son from earth must sever,
And join the silent dead;
When o'er my urn you sorrow,
Bestow alms but on those
Who ne'er have lost their dearest,
Who ne'er have known earth's woes.”
And these the words she read,—
“Your son from earth must sever,
And join the silent dead;
When o'er my urn you sorrow,
Bestow alms but on those
Who ne'er have lost their dearest,
Who ne'er have known earth's woes.”
The mother sought, but vainly,
Though near and far she rov'd,
All had endured earth's trials,
All lost the friends they lov'd.
It gave the consolation
Her hero meant; for she
Saw her's was but the portion
Of all humanity.
Though near and far she rov'd,
All had endured earth's trials,
All lost the friends they lov'd.
It gave the consolation
Her hero meant; for she
175
Of all humanity.
Then, then I will take comfort—
I'll balm my bosom's pain,
I'll dry my tears, though never
Can I know joy again.
I'll breathe no fruitless murmur,
Whatever pangs are mine;
Since misery's universal,
Why, why should I repine!
I'll balm my bosom's pain,
I'll dry my tears, though never
Can I know joy again.
I'll breathe no fruitless murmur,
Whatever pangs are mine;
Since misery's universal,
Why, why should I repine!
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