Poems (Taggart)/Contrast

by Cynthia Taggart

CONTRAST. 1823.

When by the limpid streamlet's flow
Congenial spirits mingle woe,
Sweet solace doth the margin strow,
        And happiness will dawn.

When sorrow deep retires afar,
To mourn 'neath Vesper's lonely star,
With naught the solitude to mar,
        A calmness doth o'erspread.

But when in pleasure's festive train
The demon of insatiate pain
Unites, the dregs of misery drain,
        And drench the sinking heart.

While grief relentless rends her prey
Hope's happy offspring, blithe and gay,
Laugh, sing, and smile the hours away,
        Replete with social glee.

Then deep is drawn the lengthened sigh,
But no congenial heart is nigh,
And none the falling tear to dry,—
        The tear of deep distress.

Then gladly would that soul forego
The sight of bliss it ne'er can know,—
The sounds of joy that cause the throe
        Of anguish more severe;—

Would fly to some retreat where wave
The sighing leaves, and waters lave,
In pensive sounds, or rushing rave
        In varying tones and force;—

To the lone forest sigh each pain,
While through the woods a pitying strain,
Borne on the breeze in language plain
        Of consolation sweet,

Falls softly soothing on the ear,
And quells the murmurs of despair,
And bids one gleam of hope appear
        To raise and cheer the mind.