Hew Morrison Collection > Minor poems, and translations, in verse

STANZAS.
How should I miirmur at the hour
When Death will lend his soothing power Ì
How should my soul complain
To part this fragile tenement,
By every striving passion spent,
And grief subdued in vain ?
Should I be loth to yield this breath.
Or dread to meet the pangs of death ?
Alas ! the pangs of life
Have more of pain, even were they brief ;
Nor long endurance brings relief
From pangs of mortal strife !
Wearied and worn — I do not sleep ; —
Oppressed with grief— I do not weep —
The giief that melts in tears
Exhales and dies : — but tears nor sighs
The bosom yields when once the prize
Of wild and mortal fears !