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244
STANZAS.
[My joy, my hopes, let others share]
My joy, my hopes, let others share:
In grief I'd play the miser's part;
My lips, my brow, should never bear
The index of a stricken heart.
In grief I'd play the miser's part;
My lips, my brow, should never bear
The index of a stricken heart.
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If riches were consign'd to me,
No griping hand would clutch the pelf;
For valueless the gold would be
If hoarded only for myself.
No griping hand would clutch the pelf;
For valueless the gold would be
If hoarded only for myself.
If pleasure's cheering rays were mine,
I would not bask in selfish light,
But have the circle spread and shine,
And make all round as glad and bright.
I would not bask in selfish light,
But have the circle spread and shine,
And make all round as glad and bright.
But should my spirit bend and ache
Beneath some pressing load of woe,
Unheard the heavy sigh must break,
Unseen the scalding drop must flow!
Beneath some pressing load of woe,
Unheard the heavy sigh must break,
Unseen the scalding drop must flow!
With sudden stroke or wearing pain
The barb might pierce, the worm might feed:
I'd cloak the wound, I'd hide the chain—
In secret weep—in silence bleed.
The barb might pierce, the worm might feed:
I'd cloak the wound, I'd hide the chain—
In secret weep—in silence bleed.
For did my troubled breast reveal
Its anguish to the world's wide ear,
The few would grieve, partake, and feel—
The many would not care to hear.
Its anguish to the world's wide ear,
The few would grieve, partake, and feel—
The many would not care to hear.
And could I bear the few, the loved,
To make my fears and sorrows theirs!
Could I e'er wish a bosom moved
To note and mourn my doubts and cares!
To make my fears and sorrows theirs!
Could I e'er wish a bosom moved
To note and mourn my doubts and cares!
'Twere easier far to inly groan,
And let the canker rankle deep;
Better the worst of pangs my own
Than see a dear one watch and weep!
And let the canker rankle deep;
246
Than see a dear one watch and weep!
And who among the busy throng
Would heed my words or mark my tear?
The saddest tale, the foulest wrong,
Might raise a smile or call a sneer.
Would heed my words or mark my tear?
The saddest tale, the foulest wrong,
Might raise a smile or call a sneer.
Oh! well I know, whate'er my fate,
I'd meet and brook it firmly proud,
And rather die beneath the weight
Than tell it to the soulless crowd.
I'd meet and brook it firmly proud,
And rather die beneath the weight
Than tell it to the soulless crowd.
Joy, hope, and wealth, let others share;
In grief I'd play the miser's part:
I'd scatter all that's sweet and fair,
But lock the nightshade in my heart.
In grief I'd play the miser's part:
I'd scatter all that's sweet and fair,
But lock the nightshade in my heart.
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