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Lays of Leisure Hours

By The Lady E. Stuart Wortley

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LIFE'S WORST GRIEF.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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184

LIFE'S WORST GRIEF.

Heart and Brain
Lorn ye are—
Weariest Pain!
Worst Despair!
Could I break
Yoke and chain,
Could I wake
Hope again—
Could I win
Back to sight
Dreams akin
To Delight—

185

What were this,
What were aught,
Bright with bliss
To my Thought!
There's a grief
Dearer far
Than Life's chief
Blessings are!
Heart and mind
Deeply know
Strangely find
Joy in woe!
Heart and Brain—
Spurn relief,
Court their pain,
Love their Grief!

186

Love!—dark word,
Thou makest still
Each Heart's chord
Jar and thrill!
Love can sole
Thus bestow
Bliss in dole,
Joy in woe!
Love's excess
Sole can make
Hearts to bless—
While they break.
Seems his Care
Precious even!
His Despair
Dear as Heaven!

187

Grief and Gloom,
Toil and Tears,
Death and Doom,
He endears!
Therefore Love
Thou art still
Far above
Every ill!
Therefore Love
Thou'rt Life's worst—
Since we move
Self accursed!
Since we twine
Round our chain,
And resign
All to pain!

188

Since men spread
Coals of fire
On their head
In self-ire.
When o'erpowered
By thy might,
As they showered
Stars of Light!
Other grief
Seeks redress—
Craves relief
'Mid distress.
Worse, far worse—
Love! thou art,
Cherished Curse—
Of the Heart!

189

Worshipped Wrong—
Blessed Bane,
Stern and strong,
Stands thy reign!
Giant-Power!
Nursed and fed
Hour by hour
Still by dread.
Dread and Doubt,
Shame and Strife—
Close about
Love's wild Life!
These and things
Deadlier yet,
Darker springs
Of regret—

190

Fuller sway,
Firmlier strength,
Fiercer play
Lend at length!
Ev'n to him—
Earth's crowned Lord,
Dark and dim,
Feared—adored!
No escape
Ours may be—
Every shape
Suiteth thee!
Gloom and Wrath,
Storm and Flame,
Still thy path
Is the same—

191

We wish not
To be saved!
By our lot
Crushed—enslaved.
Still we kneel
At thy shrine,
Who could heal
Wounds of thine?
Who would seek
To be spared?
Fond and weak
Yield the ensnared.
Who would choose
To be free?
And thus lose
Grief and thee!

192

They would call
On thee yet—
Would do all
But forget!—
They would cling
Round thee still
Fatal thing—
Mortal Ill!
More and more
They shall bear,
Who adore
Their Despair!
Therefore Love!
Foe of Foes,
Thou'rt above
All our woes!

193

Thou'rt the first
Heavenly-miened!
Thou'rt the worst
Cherub-Fiend!
Therefore thou
Ev'n 'mongst all—
Griefs that now
Men befall—
Stand'st alone
First and worst,
Deadliest known,
Most accursed.
Thou, ev'n thou,
Sternly art
Brand to brow,
Hurt to heart.

194

Being's bane,
Darkest dole,
Fire to Brain,
Death to Soul!
Worthless Trust—
Wayward aim—
Star—of dust!
Spring—of flame!
Withered Hope,
Wasted Hour—
Oh!—to cope
With thy Power!
Weariest Bane—
Weightiest Care—
Wildest Pain—
Worst Despair!