My Comforter
Well
hast
thou
spoken,
and
yet,
not
taught
A
feeling
strange
or
new;
Thou
hast
but
roused
a
latent
thought,
A
cloud-closed
beam
of
sunshine,
brought
To
gleam
in
open
view.
Deep
down,
concealed
within
my
soul,
That
light
lies
hid
from
men;
Yet,
glows
unquenched-though
shadows
roll,
Its
gentle
ray
cannot
control,
About
the
sullen
den.
Was
I
not
vexed,
in
these
gloomy
ways
To
walk
alone
so
long
?
Around
me,
wretches
uttering
praise,
Or
howling
o'er
their
hopeless
days,
And
each
with
Frenzy's
tongue;-
A
brotherhood
of
misery,
Their
smiles
as
sad
as
sighs;
Whose
madness
daily
maddened
me,
Distorting
into
agony
The
bliss
before
my
eyes
!
So
stood
I,
in
Heaven's
glorious
sun,
And
in
the
glare
of
Hell;
My
spirit
drank
a
mingled
tone,
Of
seraph's
song,
and
demon's
moan;
What
my
soul
bore,
my
soul
alone
Within
itself
may
tell
!
Like
a
soft
air,
above
a
sea,
Tossed
by
the
tempest's
stir;
A
thaw-wind,
melting
quietly
The
snow-drift,
on
some
wintry
lea;
No:
what
sweet
thing
resembles
thee,
My
thoughtful
Comforter
?
And
yet
a
little
longer
speak,
Calm
this
resentful
mood;
And
while
the
savage
heart
grows
meek,
For
other
token
do
not
seek,
But
let
the
tear
upon
my
cheek
Evince
my
gratitude
!
