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SORROW.
O Sorrow! bitter, dreaded draught,
Must I ne'er drink but of thy cup?—
And though I drank of thee alone,
I ne'er could drink thine anguish up.
Must I ne'er drink but of thy cup?—
And though I drank of thee alone,
I ne'er could drink thine anguish up.
Thy chalice ever will remain
As full as when I tasted first,
And others have as large a share,
Though my embittered heart should burst.
As full as when I tasted first,
And others have as large a share,
Though my embittered heart should burst.
LINES COMPOSED IN GREAT SUFFERING.1829.
Sad, moaning wind! thy mournful melody,
Joined with the murmurs of the troubled sea,
Falls on the ear disconsolate and lone,
Like pitying Mercy's sympathizing tone;—
Calms the wild throbbing of the rending breast,
Where ever rankling tortures are compressed,
Joined with the murmurs of the troubled sea,
Falls on the ear disconsolate and lone,
Like pitying Mercy's sympathizing tone;—
Calms the wild throbbing of the rending breast,
Where ever rankling tortures are compressed,
