Poem by George Pope Morris

The Tyrant Sway

The heart that owns thy tyrant sway,
  Whate'er its hopes may be,
Is like a bark that drifts away
  Upon a shoreless sea!
No compass left to guide her on,
Upon the surge she's tempest-torn—
  And such is life to me!

And what is life when love is fled?
  The world, unshared by thee?
I'd rather slumber with the dead,
  Than such a waif to be!
The bark that by no compass steers
Is lost, which way soe'er she veers—
  And such is life to me!

1. Thou Hast Woven the Spell
2. Thy Will Be Done
3. Wearies My Love?
4. Fare Thee Well, Love
5. The Cottager's Welcome

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