THE VOW OF THE PEACOCK.
59
It soothed her not,—that tranquil sky
Seemed as it said, "despair, and die!"
She gazed upon the lovely night,—
She sickened at its unshared light.
Oh! that a single cloud had thrown
Its shadow sharing with her own.
Ah! loving weakness of the soul,
That asks the wild waves as they roll,—
That asks the light winds as they sweep,—
To share the human tears we weep:
Not all in vain is such a prayer—
They soothe, although they may not share.
But 'twas too soon for the sweet sense
Of Nature's hallowing influence;
Her silent and subduing power
Is felt upon a later hour;
