Charles Frederick White (Чарльз Фредерик Уайт)

Despondency

I care not how soon I leave here;
Leave this cruel, lonely world:
I've a longing to depart to
Where the flag of peace, unfurled,
Spreads its grand, celestial tidings,
As it waves in silence there,
Through the realms of the Creator,
Far beyond this earthly air.
As I sit within my chamber
Musing o'er my wasted life,
I can think of naught but sadness
Intermixed with toil and strife.
All the world about seems joyous,
Seems to be o'erfilled with glee:
Nature, with inviting glances,
Bids us all her joys to see.
But, alas! I feel not cheerful,
Matters not how bright the day,
For my thoughts are doleful, dreary,
Of the mystic far-away.
Though betimes I may seem joyful
From some outward look or sign,
Yet, within, my heart beats sadly,
As with burden on the mind.
You who read this simple poem,
Think not as is here expressed;
'Tis a miserable feeling
Thus to be in mind distressed.

1. In Honor of Lincoln
2. Song of a Summer Breeze
3. An Easter Morn
4. The Holidays
5. Past Memories

Anne Brontë (Энн Бронте) Despondency ("I have gone backward in the work")

Распечатать (To print)

Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1280

Последние стихотворения

To English version