University of Virginia Library

A MOOD

A BLIGHT, a gloom, I know not what, has crept upon my
gladness—
Some vague, remote ancestral touch of sorrow, or of mad-
ness;
A fear that is not fear, a pain that has not pain's in-
sistence;
A sense of longing, or of loss, in some foregone exist-
ence;
A subtle hurt that never pen has writ nor tongue has
spoken—
Such hurt perchance as Nature feels when a blossomed
bough is broken.