This page has been validated.
The Storm
The cry of unsatisfied hearts hungry for happiness;
The house is full of whispering ghosts as you hurry by,
And my soul is heavy and dark with a great distress,
For heaven is far away, and hope is dead;
And the night is a tomb of tears, and despair, and dread.
The house is full of whispering ghosts as you hurry by,
And my soul is heavy and dark with a great distress,
For heaven is far away, and hope is dead;
And the night is a tomb of tears, and despair, and dread.
O hunt no more wild hounds of the wind and rain,
For my soul is afraid of the sound of your hurrying feet,
And surely under the stars a beautiful joy is slain?
For my soul is afraid of the sound of your hurrying feet,
And surely under the stars a beautiful joy is slain?
39
