WHAT human tongue can speak my
What human thought conceive?
For, O my tears refuse to flow,
Lest weeping should relieve!
Despair, with agonizing stings,
Forbids my soul to rest;
While the broad shadow of his wings
Eclipses all my breast!
Transfixed with grief all day I sigh,
And shun the smiling light;
To shades and solitudes I fly,
And languish for the night!
Frantic I toss the night away,
And rave, and faint, and burn;
I curse the gloom, invoke the day,
Yet dread the day’s return!
Ah, me! distracted and forlorn,
No friendship soothes my smart;
My rose is withered, and the thorn
Hath sunk into my heart!
In vain the rosy lips of spring
The softening air perfume;
In vain the warbling woodlands ring,
The hills and vallies bloom!
The spring of peace shall never quell
The winter of my care,
Nor rising sun of hope dispell
The midnight of despair!
O melt my frozen eyes, and first
Weep your full fountains dry;
Then O my heart asunder burst,
And let— and let me die!