MISCELLANEOUS POEMS

By Charles Sangster


 

SOUL, THOU ART LONELY.



Soul, thou’rt lonely—calm and lonely,
     Lonely as the stricken deer,
Waiting for its lost companions
     Slaughtered in the distant mere,
Sadness is thy earthly portion,

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     Sadness that beclouds the mind,
Scarce a single vestige leaving
     Of God’s glorious light behind.
Yes, my soul, thou’rt sad and lonely.
     Be thou to thy lot resigned.

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Couldst thou but forget the moments,
     Few in number, that have pass’d
O’er thee, like the light of evening,
     Leaving all in gloom at last;
Could some gently-rolling Lethe

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     Wash remembrance from the mind,
Blotting out the golden day-dreams
     Those fond moments left behind;
Then, my soul, how shouldst thou triumph!
     Then thou mightest be resigned.

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But so long as memory looketh
     With regret upon the past,
Feasting on the priceless treasures
     Then, in brighter days, amassed,
Will the sweet remembrance foster

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     This drear loneliness of mind,
Though my best resolves should prompt thee, [Page 175]
     Like true friends with counsel kind,
To shake off thy chains of bondage,
     And be to thy lot resigned.

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Yes, my soul, thou’rt sad and lonely,
     Lonely as the mateless dove,
When the cruel blasts of winter
     Have deprived it of its love.
Could fond Hope resume its empire

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     Over my deserted mind,
And retouch the fading day-dream
     Dim within my thoughts enshrined,
Then couldst thou shake off this sadness,
     To thy future lot resigned. [Page 176]

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