Poem by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

A Mood

A blight, a gloom, I know not what, has crept upon my gladness—
Some vague, remote ancestral touch of sorrow, or of madness;
A fear that is not fear, a pain that has not pain's insistence;
A sense of longing, or of loss, in some foregone exsistence;
A subtle hurt that never pen has writ nor tongue has spoken—
Such hurt perchance as Nature feels wen a blossomed bough is broken.

1. On Reading William Watson's Sonnet Entitled The Purple East
2. No Songs in Winter
3. Identity
4. Sestet
5. When the Sultan Goes to Ispahan

Madison Cawein A Mood ("Bowed hearts that hold the saddest memories")

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