 | The Village Churchyard |  |
182
ALONE!
Alone through this wild world I tread,
And weep that I'm alone;
The tears I daily, nightly shed,
Flow for the bright days flown.
And weep that I'm alone;
The tears I daily, nightly shed,
Flow for the bright days flown.
Thou sunshiny and flowery earth,—
Thou would'st unto my heart atone
For many a pang, for much of dearth,
Were I less utterly alone!
Thou would'st unto my heart atone
For many a pang, for much of dearth,
Were I less utterly alone!
Were there one eye, whose gentle glance
Might bear deep sympathy's pure light
Far through my soul,—and break its trance,
And chase its gloom, with tenderest might;—
Might bear deep sympathy's pure light
Far through my soul,—and break its trance,
And chase its gloom, with tenderest might;—
183
Were there one hand, whose eloquent clasp,
Could charm afflictions to repose—
Check Sorrow's sigh and Pain's low gasp;
And while away these haunting woes.
Could charm afflictions to repose—
Check Sorrow's sigh and Pain's low gasp;
And while away these haunting woes.
Were there one heart, whose pulse might thrill,
Fountain of sweet response to mine—
One heart, that time might never chill,
And oh! if that one heart were thine!
Fountain of sweet response to mine—
One heart, that time might never chill,
And oh! if that one heart were thine!
Were thine, thou false one! who could'st fling
Thy once-loved, like a weed away;
And clouds of heaviest sorrow bring,
To shade and shroud her life's young day.
Thy once-loved, like a weed away;
And clouds of heaviest sorrow bring,
To shade and shroud her life's young day.
But vain, and bitter as 't is vain,
Is this wild dream—yet must I moan,
And pine, with deep heart-gnawing pain—
That I'm thus utterly alone!
Is this wild dream—yet must I moan,
And pine, with deep heart-gnawing pain—
That I'm thus utterly alone!
184
Fain would I learn to love the cold,
That crowd about my onward path;—
But could my woman's heart withhold
The fervent passionateness it hath?
That crowd about my onward path;—
But could my woman's heart withhold
The fervent passionateness it hath?
And if I learned to love again,
As I have vainly loved before—
This Heart, now half—resigned to pain,
Must con the bitter task once more.
As I have vainly loved before—
This Heart, now half—resigned to pain,
Must con the bitter task once more.
Ah! not the coldness of the loved,
Can damp the faithful bosom's truth;
A thousand hearts such fate have proved,
And mourned their desolated youth!
Can damp the faithful bosom's truth;
A thousand hearts such fate have proved,
And mourned their desolated youth!
Then hopeless, silent, still alone—
Heart of my blighted youth—remain!
Since I have found in wild days flown,
Love's latest, lasting gift is Pain.
Heart of my blighted youth—remain!
Since I have found in wild days flown,
Love's latest, lasting gift is Pain.
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